


Serpent's Ascending

by Madriddler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Animagus Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Character Death, Dark Harry, Dark Magic, Good Pansy Parkinson, Good Slytherins, Hermione Granger Bashing, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts First Year, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mentor Tom Riddle, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter, Top Tom Riddle, Top Voldemort (Harry Potter), Weasley Bashing, Young Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: Harry was seven when he first met Voldemort. The Dark Lord was less than a wraith, but he could see the potential in Harry, a darkness that begged to be nourished. Now his mentor, Voldemort shows Harry the true beauty of the wizarding world and the finer workings of the Dark Arts. Will Hogwarts be ready for this changed Harry? Will the Wizarding World?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 170
Kudos: 669
Collections: Harry Potter Centric Fanfiction, TomarryFics





	1. Hollows Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I hate plot bunnies. No schedule yet because uhh things happen.

Serpent’s Ascending

Chapter 1

Hollows Meeting

Harry was only seven years old when he found the snake-boy. It was during recess at this school, St. Gregory’s Primary School, and Harry have managed to sneak out of the playground, hopping over the fence both to explore and to get away from his cousin.

It was easy for young Harry to do so. Being small for his age, Harry was able to crawl into places that others cannot reach or generally overlook. In general, Harry was always being overlooked. He always wore clothes that were two sizes too big for him, all second-hand from his cousin of course, and his green eyes were hidden behind round glasses that were big on his head. He was teased for this when people noticed him, but mostly they left him alone. Which he was fine with.

Really.

Sure, there were times where Harry was lonely and wished that he had a friend. The kids at school avoid him because everyone knows that he’s his cousin Dudley’s punching bag. And anyone who tried to even talk with Harry would quickly earn Dudley and his friends’ wrath, so no one even tries. Besides, bullying Harry is so much more fun than getting bullied with Harry.

So here he was, alone, with no friends, wandering the small field around his school. He didn’t mind it really. Harry was lonely, yeah, he desperately wanted a friend, but being alone was better than being chased by Dudley and his friends.

With a heavy sigh, he fell on his back and just stared upwards, watching the clouds peacefully drift on by across the light-blue sky, oblivious to the troubles that went on in the young boy’s mind. Harry found his mind slowing along with the clouds, humming strangely contently as he lost track of time. Nobody bothered him, nobody really looked for him. Before Harry knew it, he heard his teacher calling for them to come inside. He did not really want to leave, too relaxed and content in his spot, but he knew that if he didn’t go, then that would only lead to more trouble. “I really don’t wanna,” Harry groaned as he pushed himself to his feet.

He dusted off his pants and turned to look at the field. It was quiet, very quiet, and peaceful with grass that came to his ankles. He hummed to himself and turned to leave.

_Rustle, Rustle._

Harry stopped and turned swiftly. “Hello? Anyone there?” he asked. The sounds he heard stopped immediately and he squinted his eyes, doing his best to try and see what was making the sound. All he could see was the green grass. He frowned and crossed his arms, “Weird,” he muttered.

“POTTER! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

Harry jumped at the voice and turned quickly, running back to the fence, “Coming Mrs. Thorn!” he yelled, climbing the fence just as easily, as though the fence was really moving by itself. He landed back in the playground and ran, oblivious to the red eyes that followed him.

The rest of the day went by rather boring for Harry. He just sat in the back of his class, pushing his broken glasses, held only by tape, up to his face every now and again when it started to slip off. He really wanted to just be out of school. Not home, Harry hated being there, but rather outside where he’s not at school or his cousin’s house. He could barely pay attention really. He sat in the back of the classroom, Mrs. Thorn refusing to let him sit closer to the board, so he was stuck between two of Dudley’s friends: Piers and Gordon. The two were the worst, they kept throwing paper and whatever they could get at Harry, sometimes even throwing pictures with rude things at him. They would also steal his notebooks and draw horrible things as well, things that made Harry go cold even thinking about.

However, the strangest part of the rest of the day was that Harry felt like he was being watched. It wasn’t a strange feeling. It didn’t feel like someone was glaring at him or staring at him as though they were planning on giving him a wedgie, those kinds of looks tended to cause an itch on the back of his neck. This was different, a strange different that Harry did not even know how to feel about. He looked around his class to see that nobody was looking at him, not even Piers and Gordon strangely enough. His eyes drifted towards the window, again seeing nothing out of the ordinary. So he just went on with his day, doing his best to ignore the strange feeling.

The second the bell rang for dismissal, Harry ran out. He has only gotten to the school’s gate before he was suddenly jerked back and fell on his butt. “What’s wrong cousin? Don’t want to play?” a voice asked mockingly.

Harry looked up to see, much to his displeasure, his cousin Dudley Dursley looking down at him. Dudley was a fat kid with short hair and a rotten attitude. His friends were on either side of him, all looking down at Harry with similar looks. “Come on Harry, I want to play Harry Chase.” He raised his fist to punch Harry, but the smaller boy moved on instinct. He rolled to his feet and ran away as fast as he could. “Get him!” Dudley yelled, his friends all whooping and screaming with glee as they all chased Harry. It was their favorite pastime. They all could hurt Harry easily and did whenever they cornered him, but Harry was always faster than them. He ran around the school and jumped the fence, feeling shocked that he was able to jump over the huge fence in one leap. He ran across the field and looked back over his shoulder. He could see Dudley and his gang struggling to get over the fence and kept on running. He did not stop until he was long gone from school, heading towards the house where he lives, Number 4 Privet Drive. He still felt like he was being looked at but pushed that feeling away.

Harry only stopped when he reached the front door and looked around. Dudley was nowhere to be seen, however, there was something that he never saw before. Across the street staring straight at him was a boy he never saw before. The boy looked to be a couple of years older than him with pale, smooth skin, neat black hair, and, strangest of all, red eyes. The boy stared at Harry unemotionally and unblinking. Harry was caught in his gaze, just standing on the doorstep of his house as he stared back at the boy. He wanted to go to him, to introduce himself and ask all about him. _It’ll be pointless, Dudley will just tell him how much of a freak I am and he’ll never be friends with me,_ he thought miserably. But still, the want to go to him was there, and never went away.

“Harry! There you are!”

Harry was snapped out of whatever gaze he was in and looked around. Dudley was barreling after him, smirking at Harry as he grabbed the boy and threw him with all of his strength off of the doorsteps, into the rosebushes on the sides of the house. Dudley laughed as Harry screamed in pain and shock, tumbling, and rolling out, his clothes getting messier in the process. He stumbled to his feet just as Dudley walked into the house, slamming the door after him. Harry’s eyes immediately went to across the street only to find that the strange boy was gone! He felt disappointed but shook his head. He might as well just go inside.

“You’re late boy,” was how Uncle Vernon greeted him.

“I’m sorry Uncle Vernon,” Harry said meekly as the shadow of Uncle Vernon fell over him. He was a large man with a walrus mustache and thick fingers. Harry yelped when a sudden sting of pain slapped his cheeks. His eyes watered from the slap, but he continued to stand. “Go outside and do your chores, boy, before I take away your dinner,” Uncle Vernon said.

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry answered. Uncle Vernon gave him another slap, just for good measure, and returned to the living room. Harry turned around and walked outside. He bent in front of the flowerbed and started weeding it, pulling out anything “wild” that his Aunt Petunia does not want in her garden. In Harry’s opinion, it was a rather boring garden, Aunt Petunia only grew ordinary flowers in plainly ordinary flowers. Sometimes weeds popped up, as well as mixed flowers that Aunt Petunia hated with a passion. So she had Harry go out every day and make sure that nothing undesirable was growing.

It was hard work for Harry. The Dursleys refuse to give him gloves for this, so he regularly got cuts on his hands, which only got him into more trouble for “bleeding on your aunt’s lovely flowers” earning him either no dinner or more slaps from his uncle. Miraculously, however, all of his cuts would disappear by the next day, and his hands would be as smooth as ever. He was pulling a particularly good looking flower that was a mixture of purple and yellow when movement caused him to stop.

Red eyes were staring at Harry, and Harry stared back, his hand frozen mid-pull as he followed the eyes and saw the body that was connected to them. It was a snake, a rather large snake, with dark green scales. Harry and the snake continued to stare at each other, his arm starting to hurt a little for holding the pose for so long. Then, surprisingly, the snake talked.

_“To think that Potter would so easy to find.”_

_“I’m sorry, you know my name?”_ Harry asked. He pulled the flower out and quickly dropped it, turning his full attention to the snake. _“My name is Harry; how did you learn my last name?”_

The snake blinked at Harry, as though surprised that he even talked back to him. _“Interesting,”_ the snake hissed. _“Why wouldn’t I know your name, Harry Potter? After all you have done…”_

 _“All I’ve done? I haven’t done anything!”_ Harry said, panicking. _“I don’t know how I got onto the chimneys or how Mrs. Thorn’s wig turned blue! I swear!”_

The snake turned his head to the side, _“No you ignorant boy, do you know nothing about what you have done? What your parents have done? How they died?”_

Harry frowned, _“They died in a car crash, Uncle Vernon told me that they were both drunk with me in the car.”_

 _“A car crash! That they would lie as such! To you of all people, what is that old man thinking?”_ the snake muttered. Harry frowned. He fell so he was laying on his stomach, his feet kicked up into the air as he rested his head on his hands.

 _“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about Mr. Snake,”_ he said.

 _“Mr. Snake—the nerve. Boy, you do not know whose presence you’re in? I am Lord Voldemort!”_ the snake proclaimed. Harry stared at the snake for a moment confused.

His cheeks tinted red and he said embarrassed, _“I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are Lord Voldemort. But it’s nice to meet you.”_

“BOY! STOP LOAFING AROUND AND DO SOME WORK!” Uncle Vernon’s voice yelled through the walls. Harry flinched and gave out a small fearful noise. The snake named Voldemort looked at Harry for a moment then back at the house before turning to Harry, slithering closer.

 _“To think that a wizard would be fearful of a muggle,”_ Voldemort muttered, _“Is that a handprint on your cheek?”_

 _“I’m—I’m sorry, I have to go,”_ Harry said suddenly, sniffling. _“I—I have to—”_

 _“You will do no such thing, not yet, Harry,”_ Voldemort said. He stared at Harry, as though the snake was figuring something important out. _“To think that the old fool would send him here of all places to be abused and ignorant.”_

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Harry said again, getting the snake’s attention.

 _“You will never apologize to me, Harry. Never apologize for what muggles have done,”_ the snake said.

Harry did not know what muggles were, but he did not want to anger the snake, so he just nodded. He glanced at the house, then back at the snake. _“Okay, I won’t, but I need to go now, or I won’t get any dinner again.”_

_“Again? What do you mean by that Potter?”_

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. He looked around, as though to make sure nobody was listening in, before leaning towards Voldemort. _“Please promise me that you won’t tell anyone,”_ he said, sounding completely afraid. The snake nodded and Harry said, _“I hate it here. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always blame me for everything, even things that Dudley did! They would give me chores but nothing to do them with, and after I’m done they would lock me up in my ‘room’ which is just a cupboard under the stairs. There are a lot of times where they just send me with no dinner. And more times when they hit me.”_

 _“That is completely unacceptable! To think that Dumbledore would allow this—it puts to shame anything I have done,”_ Voldemort muttered. _“You do not deserve to live like this, Harry Potter. I may not be able to spirit you away now, I am too weak to do so, even my glamour to get your attention drained me more energy than what I have nowadays, but I will keep an eye on you, Harry. There are many things that you should know but do not. I will teach all of it to you.”_

Harry only looked at the snake, deeply confused. _“Wait so that means…”_ he looked over his shoulder, staring at the sidewalk on the other side of the road, and gasped, _“you’re that boy I saw!”_

Voldemort nodded. _“I am indeed. Now go, I will watch you and take care of you young Harry.”_

 _“Oh… okay,”_ Harry said. He looked hesitant but he smiled down at the snake. _“I’m happy to have met you Lord Voldemort and thank you.”_

The Dark Lord just nodded and watched the young Potter get up and run back into the dreadful house. This was not his plan, none of it actually. Ever since that Halloween six years ago, the Dark Lord has lost his body and power. Surviving only on the faintest remains of his magic. He was less than a wraith and has spent five years wandering aimlessly, barely conscious of the world around him. His power returned marginally, he was far from his full power, what he had now was laughable, but it was enough for Voldemort to be aware of his surroundings and develop a form for he can travel. It was tiresome work, he felt constantly tired and still had to turn back into the misty wraith that he has been for five years, but at least now he was aware, now he could plan.

Seeing Potter so vulnerable in that muggle school was a lucky coincidence. An easy target for Voldemort to kill, once and for all, but just like a snake he wanted to observe, to play with his prey. So he watched the boy all day as he lounged in the fields. Then he returned to school and, much to Voldemort’s amazement, the boy seemed to already have a control over his accidental magic! Climbing and jumping over the fence so easily, as if it was barely a thought. Surely, Voldemort thought, Potter must live in some guarded place, trained, and protected by the strongest of wizards who were foolish enough to oppose him.

However, that seemed to be furthest from the truth. He continued to watch Potter and was shocked to see the boy bullied by common muggles, fearing these muggles even, and running away instead of fighting back as Voldemort assumed from the blasted boy. But no, he ran and only suffered more. First, from that pig, he called a cousin, and then from that walrus of a man he was forced to call his uncle. There were no trainers, no guards teaching and serving Harry Potter, only abuse, and the heavy melancholy radiating from the cupboard. Voldemort watched helplessly as an invisible mist as the muggles continued to hurt Potter. Slapping and kicking the child for any inconvenience, making him cook their dinner, and throwing him away into the cupboard with only scraps to eat.

He was no prince lounging in silks, but a boy, hurt and alone in the dark. Voldemort floated towards him and watched as Potter cried himself to sleep, listening to every painful moan and unanswered plea for help. _THIS_ was how the great Albus Dumbledore treated the wizarding world’s savor? Leaving him in an unloved home with muggles? Not telling him even a hint of who the boy truly is, or how his parents died?

 _Completely unacceptable,_ Voldemort thought. He came here to kill his adversary but saw that the muggles would do his job for him. He should be happy with that, relieved that he did not need to do a thing in his weakened state, however for some strange reason he could not. As he listened to the boy earlier that day, and now as he watched him sleep, Voldemort could not deny what he sensed in the boy. There was a darkness there, small, and untamed but growing every day as his hatred for his muggles grew. A darkness that would lead to powerful things if he had the right mentor.

Voldemort chuckled as his plan started to form in his mind. He stared at Harry and watched him for a moment. “Albus, you old fool, look at what you have created,” he chuckled. “The Potter boy alone and unloved, but do not worry, I will take good care of the boy. You won’t ever have a lonely day anymore Harry… for now, you are mine.”


	2. A New World

Chapter 2

A New World

The Dark Lord watched over Harry for the following week. He did not tell him about the Wizarding World yet; he did not figure out how, instead he simply observed and listened, and doing, so he has learned some interesting things.

The first was Harry’s hatred for the muggles around him. It was a delicious hatred smoldering behind the boy’s innocent eyes. And the muggles kept feeding it. Every hit, every insult, every single second of neglect as they dote on that muggle boy instead of this young powerful wizard, for even now Voldemort could feel the magical power radiating from the boy. He could not wait to take Harry’s hatred, to mold it into something beautiful, something powerful, but first, the boy needed to trust him, which was an easy enough task in itself. Dumbledore left him alone and ignorant. The people in Harry’s life hate him. Voldemort, by contrast, was a shining beacon compared to the rest of young Harry’s life. He wasn’t the entirely heartless monster Dumbledore and the damnable Light thought him as he knew love, it was just a small matter in Voldemort’s opinion. One that only brought regret and agony, in no small thanks to Albus Dumbledore. But it wasn’t productive to think about _him_ right now. After all, now he has Harry, all of his power, his influence, and time should be spent making sure that Harry’s life improves.

The second and most obvious thing that interested Voldemort was that Harry spoke Parseltongue. And rather naturally at that, as though he did not realize it. He wondered how that was possible. Only Slytherin’s descendants could speak the sacred tongue, and Voldemort knew that Potter did not have a drop of Slytherin’s blood in his veins. And yet, the boy spoke to snakes as though he was speaking to any other wizard. How that could be, Voldemort did not personally know however he was eager to find out. But in the meantime, he would simply be there for Harry. He followed the boy wherever he went, always the invisible specter, until he had enough power to appear as the snake whenever Harry was alone. Sometimes that would be outside, but most times it would be in Harry’s cupboard, where Voldemort would coil himself either to the side of Harry or on top of his chest. The little boy did not mind either.

 _“Voldemort? Why do you only appear as a snake?”_ Harry asked. It was Saturday, and he was locked to the cupboard for the entire day because Dudley blamed him for a broken _Atari 7800,_ a muggle machine that played strange things that Voldemort did not even care to understand. According to Harry, Dudley and one of his friends were playing with the damn thing but then gotten angry and, in a fit of rage, destroyed the machine which they then blamed Harry for. So now he was locked in the cupboard until Sunday night to “learn his lesson.”

 _“It takes less magic to appear as such, Harry,”_ Voldemort answered. He thought now, with the two alone for a long time, his plan should begin.

 _“Magic?”_ Harry repeated. _“What do you mean? Uncle Vernon told me there’s no such thing as Magic, Voldemort.”_

Voldemort was prepared for that. Being raised by filthy muggles, he had a feeling that the boy would know nothing about who he is or the world that he is from and properly belongs. That much was certain when he said that his parents were killed by a car crash, instead of the Dark Lord who was currently keeping him company.

 _“Magic is very much real Harry,”_ Voldemort began. _“You will learn very quickly that you should not concern yourself over the opinions or facts that muggles give, especially your uncle.”_ Harry nodded silently. He reached out towards Voldemort and just gently combed his fingers down the snake’s body, the cold scales feeling good to his touch. _“You and I are wizards, Harry. I am not a snake, as you might have noticed, but an extremely powerful wizard who has lost his body years ago.”_

 _“What happened?”_ Harry asked curiously.

 _“I was given information that I thought would have caused my death, so I went out to try and put a stop to it. In the wizarding world, Harry, there are many who would oppose me,”_ Voldemort said.

Harry gave a small gasp. _“But why? You’ve been nothing but nice to me! Why would people hate you?”_

 _“I am called the Dark Lord for a reason,”_ Voldemort chuckled, amused at how innocent young Harry was. _“I’ve experimented into the Darker Arts, magic that others would deem unacceptable. They are the reason why we are speaking right now.”_

 _“They’re why you’re here?”_ Harry asked. He looked thoughtful for a moment. _“Then I think they’re wrong. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Voldemort! Ohh or do you want me to call you by Dark Lord?”_

_“Voldemort is fine, but only you can call me that.”_

_“Okay, then Voldemort you’ve been the best thing that has ever happened to me! The time we’ve been together has been the best ever. You make me not feel lonely,”_ Harry admitted.

Voldemort felt something swell inside him, a feeling he did not feel for a long time. He pushed it away and stared at Harry. He was so trusting, so touch and love-starved that he would instantly latch onto him of all people. These muggles have treated him lesser than dirt, a slave in the making they believe are beneath them, and Dumbledore continued to allow this through his negligence. He has heard how interested Dumbledore has been in the Potter’s affair, his spy has told him so, but to leave the boy with these muggles, as though putting a toy or weapon away? Well, Dumbledore cannot complain if someone else picks Harry up and treats him better, now can he? _“It was horrible, what happened to you, Harry. Left with these muggles who abuse you instead of being raised knowing who you are. I only wish I was stronger so that I could do to the muggles tenfold what they have done to you.”_

_“Voldemort, you don’t need to—”_

_“It is disgusting how they treat you. Look at this! Locked away in a cupboard because of others’ actions,”_ Voldemort seethed. _“Surely you must be angry?”_

 _“I am! But I can’t do anything,”_ Harry frowned. _“I try to do what they say and they hit me! I try to be quiet, to be out of their way but still Uncle Vernon slaps me! Punches me—Dudley still chases and beats me up! I can’t stop it Voldemort! I want to, oh my god I want to but I can’t!”_ Hot tears pooled in Harry’s eyes they flowed down his cheeks and side of his face, but he didn’t move to wipe them away. He just stared at Voldemort, angry and frustrated that he can’t do anything.

The snake let out a soft sigh. _“I am sorry Harry. I cannot do enough, but that does not mean I will not try. I will use every iota of magic I have to protect you; however, I want something in return.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Let me be your Mentor. I shall teach you, feed you, dress you and keep you,”_ Voldemort said. _“I will prepare you for your future, both the wizarding school Hogwarts and beyond, teaching you what the Ministry deems appropriate, and more importantly what they keep too dangerous for others to handle. Not because they are dangerous, but because they are too scared to learn, held back by a need for control. So they punish others.”_

 _“Just like how Uncle Vernon punish me?”_ Harry asked.

 _“Yes Harry, that is a good comparison,”_ Voldemort said. _“But that is later on. What do you say, Harry?”_

 _“Yes! I mean, yes. I want you to teach me Voldemort, please,”_ Harry said.

 _“Then my first lesson is for you to sleep. You must conserve your strength Harry, do not worry. I will watch over you,”_ Voldemort whispered, and Harry found his eyes growing heavy. He dozed off, struggling to keep them open until, finally, he fell asleep with the snake on his chest.

Voldemort watched him for a few moments before deciding to rest himself, needing to conserve as much of his energy as he had left. There were many things to teach Harry, and many difficult truths he needed to explain, but he was confident that he and his young apprentice would work through them all.

One of the first lessons Harry needed to learn was how to defend himself, Voldemort decided. He was stuck as an invisible wraith, floating around, and following his Harry throughout his day as he watched the young Potter run from his cousin and his gang. Out of all of them, Voldemort has found that the one called Piers was the most despicable. It was clear that the one named Dudley was the leader of this gang, however, Piers was the one leading everyone on, encouraging them to keep chasing Harry. “Come on! He’s slowing down keep running! We’re going to get you, Potter! Just you wait!”

But his young apprentice was just too smart and too quick. He was able to outrun them most of the time, using alleyways whenever he could, jumping over fences, and running through backyards until he was “safe” back at Privet Drive, or at least safe from the gang. Voldemort did wonder why it was that they did not just attack Harry when he was at the muggle home, it would be easy as he was too distracted with the endless list of chores. In the end, he figured that it would not have had any fun value, which disturbed the Dark Lord. True he had his own fun, torturing and murdering his opponents; however, he has never chased them or taunted them. Those were for the lesser beings who needed to prove their superiority by stupid means. No. The Dark Lord had standards and met his enemies with expectations. If they were cowards, they would pay for their cowardliness. If they tried to stand up against him, however, he would reward them with a quick death after he had what he wanted. The Potters were courageous. They both stood against him, and so when he came to their house on that Halloween Night, he has granted them a swift, painless death. Does he regret it? No. However, he was certain that he almost knew how he was going to explain his involvement in the Potter’s tragedy.

“Uh oh, Potter, dead-end,” Piers snickered gleefully. It was true, somehow in the confusion of jumping over fences and running into alleyways, Harry found himself back into the main city, away from the suburbs where his school and home were, and in the unfamiliar territory, he turned without thinking and ran into a dead-end alleyway, with Piers, Dudley, Gordon, Malcolm, and Dennis blocking the way. Each one looking big and stupid except for Piers, who was skinny and had a rat face.

Harry did his best to stand up towards them, putting on a brave persona as he raised his fists. Voldemort felt a small twinge of pride as he watched his hopeless apprentice. He wished that he could have helped more, however, he was still so weak, too weak to be helpful. Still, as he saw Dudley and his gang run towards Harry, a strange protectiveness he did not felt for almost half a century took over the Dark Lord and he flew towards them, phasing through Dudley Dursley to stay between Harry and the gang of brutish muggles. Dudley stopped, the others charging ahead, and he leaned against the wall. The fat boy gagged and coughed before spilled his lunch all over the wall and pavement. “Guys stop, I don’t feel so good,” he said, throwing up again.

Voldemort was impressed in himself. He did not know that would happen, and he watched as most of the gang stopped. Except for Piers. “Come on! He’s right here!” the rat-boy said, swinging the first punch. Harry gritted his teeth and stood his ground. “Come on! Dennis! Malcolm! One good swing at him! He’s still standing!” He swung another punch, hitting Harry in the same place. Harry swung his own fist but Piers moved out of the way and kicked Harry right between his legs. Harry crumbled, groaning in pain, and Piers began his onslaught. “You’re—missing—the—fun—look—Potter—is—here—for—the—taking!” Piers grunted between punches. Harry curled into himself, moving his hands to protect his head.

Voldemort immediately flew towards Piers, phasing through him as always, and turned, waiting for him to get sick and stop. But Piers didn’t stop. He coughed and gagged but kept on hitting Harry. Dudley and his friends were leaving, some giving Piers a glance, but the small boy did not notice or care. He pushed Harry’s hand away and grabbed his hair, pulling the boy up roughly. “You know Potter, my big bro’s teaching me how to box. Street boxing too, not that official crap. Wanna see what I’ve learned?” He gave Harry a sadistic grin. Voldemort once again tried to fly through the muggle boy.

This time, Piers did throw up, however, he did not let go of Harry. He just threw up on Harry’s shirt and laughed. “Have fun walking home Harry,” he grinned and left the boy in the alleyway.

Harry just curled around himself. His stomach was bruised, as well as his arms and legs. He was grateful that Piers did not hit his face at all, but still, everything throbbed in pain. He cried. Openly and loudly, not caring that his shirt had sick on it. He was mumbling to himself as he cried, and Voldemort had to hover in close to hear what his apprentice said.

“I’m sorry Voldemort, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough… please don’t leave me…”

Leave him!? The Dark Lord would never leave his apprentice! With all of his remaining strength, Voldemort floated towards Harry’s ear and said, “I am always with you Harry. I cannot do much, but I will protect you. I did not expect that boy to stay when he was sick.”

“Voldemort?” Harry asked, his breath hitching.

“Yes Harry, I am here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. You will get stronger Harry, I will teach you everything,” Voldemort promised, speaking almost soothingly.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Lord Voldemort? Magic… can it be used to hurt people?”

“Yes, there are many spells that can hurt Harry, both intentionally and unintentionally,” Voldemort answered.

“What about kill?” Harry asked in a small voice.

Voldemort hesitated, staring at the child as he wondered what it was that he was thinking. “Yes, you can kill with magic,” he answered.

“Good… good,” Harry said, and he left it at that. He stood up slowly and looked down at his shirt, frowning. “Aunt Petunia will hit me for this,” he said emotionlessly. “And Uncle Vernon will hit me for being late.”

“Then tonight we will begin your training, Harry. Nothing strenuous, I just want you to reach into yourself, feel the magic that is burning inside you,” Voldemort instructed. “It will be difficult, but it will be the first step into controlling your accidental magic, at least until you get a wand and attend Hogwarts.”

“Will you tell me more about it? Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“Of course, my young apprentice,” Voldemort answered. “We both need each other for survival. As long as you are my responsibility, I will never lie to you. However, I will not be able to be with you until later tonight. I must rest, I find myself physically drained from phasing through the muggles.

“Okay, you don’t have to worry,” Harry said softly. “I can handle myself.”

“Of course. I will be in that excuse the muggles call your room,” Voldemort said. He floated away, leaving his young Harry to get home by his lonesome. He knew that the boy would, he was not lying when he said he could take care of himself, however, the Dark Lord knew that there were many areas where Harry did not know what to do. But it did not matter, for now, he was there to take care of the child, and he will never let Harry fall from his grasp.

As promised, Harry found Voldemort as a snake resting on his bed. Harry did his best not to disturb his mentor, knowing that he needed a lot of rest. He got into his bed and carefully situated himself so that he was sitting in front of Voldemort, watching him sleep. Harry was happy to have his company, as a wraith or a snake, however, he would not be lying if he said that he did not miss the boy. However he knew that it took much more energy out of his Lord Voldemort, so Harry would be patient.

 _“You do not need to watch me,”_ an annoyed voice hissed. Harry grinned as he saw Voldemort stir in his bed. The snake lifted his head to meet with Harry’s eye level.

 _“I’m sorry, sir, but you looked so peaceful. I did not want to wake you up,”_ Harry said. Voldemort just grunted as much as a snake could grunt and stared at him for a moment.

 _“Even now, I can feel your magic, Harry. It is strong. Raw. Powerful and wild, waiting for you to use it.”_ Voldemort said. _“However, we must work to feel it. You are too young to control it normally, and you do not have a wand.”_

 _“A wand? I’m going to get a wand?”_ Harry asked, excitement slowly bubbling inside him.

 _“Yes, but not until you are eleven when you must go to Hogwarts,”_ Voldemort answered. _“But that does not mean that you cannot control the magic inside you. For now, I just want you to reach into yourself, try to find the magic inside, and concentrate on it.”_

 _“How do I do that?”_ Harry frowned.

 _“Just close your eyes Harry and concentrate. Feel yourself, truly, hasn’t there ever been things you cannot explain? Peculiar events that seemed to elude reason? That is your magic reaching out, accidental magic that you can control,”_ Voldemort said. Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He reached out and started to pet Voldemort’s scales out of habit and focused on that, on the calming sensation of the scales against his fingertips as he tried to do as he was told.

It was strange for the seven-year-old to try and be introspective. However, the cupboard got a strange silence. He could no longer hear the television in the living room, or any of the Dursleys. It was as though he was locked away from the rest of the world, Voldemort’s voice filling the void and his brushing giving it form. He gave a small sigh, and a rare smile curled around his lips. He could feel his heartbeat, which astonished young Harry! It was very strange whenever he noticed his heart rate, he could only do it rarely. But there was something else, a pulsing that was not his heart rate yet still matched its beat. He did not know why, but Harry was drawn to it. He wanted to get closer to this strange beat, to reach out and touch it.

His chest started to feel warm, a pleasant warmth as though he was wrapped in a very thick blanket on a cold winter’s night. The warmth spread, tingling everywhere it went until he could feel his toes and fingers tingle and prickle. Through the darkness of his closed eyes, he thought he could see a color. Or, well, multiple colors. A brilliant hue of greens and reds and blues colliding into one another, swirling endlessly around a dark purple-blackish core. It looked as though it would be cold, but as it has gotten close to Harry, the warm feeling only grew and he felt something else, a sense of safety. He was safe in this strange collection of colors.

His smile grew, and Voldemort’s voice hissed into him, wrapping around his consciousness. _“That’s it, Harry! I can feel it now, you are powerful, so powerful. Your magic is beautiful. Open your eyes, and see what I see…”_

Harry opened his eyes and gasped. Floating above them both was a ball of light that was changing colors. It was small, about the size of Harry’s fist, but still, it shone brightly changing from yellow to red to green to purple to violent and back again, mixing with greens and browns and every other color that Harry can imagine. He smiled brilliantly at the ball of light. _“Look! I made that!”_ Harry said with pride.

 _“That you did, good job Harry,”_ Voldemort said, staring at the orb of light. _“Though it is small, this is a sign of how powerful you can be. Keep at it Harry, and nobody will hurt you. Not now, not at Hogwarts, and not ever again.”_

Harry stared at the orb, smiling. He then looked down at Voldemort and a question popped into his mind. _“Can you tell me about it? Hogwarts? And maybe why I’m here instead of there?”_

 _“Of course, consider it a bedtime story and a reward or reaching your magic the first time you’ve tried,”_ Voldemort chuckled. The two moved so that Harry was laying down on his old mattress with Voldemort coiled around on his body. He still felt the warmth from his magic, tingling excitedly as he did his best to get comfortable. _“Hogwarts is a school for witchcraft and wizardry. You will be going there when you turn eleven, so four years from now. There is no primary school for witches and wizards, you see, why that is I do not know, it certainly would be useful. But never mind that. I went to Hogwarts, as did all witches and wizards of England, Scotland, and Ireland. We are a small, but powerful community as you can guess. Some, like you and I, have come from long and powerful lines of witches and wizards. The Potter Family has been involved in many things, going as far back as the middle ages. Meanwhile, my descendants come from the great Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. I was naturally sorted into his House when I’ve gone to Hogwarts.”_

_“House?”_

_“Students are separated into different Houses, you see, there are four, one for each founder. I have been in Slytherin, just as you will, Harry.”_

_“Ohh, I hope I’m in Slytherin too,”_ Harry smiled.

 _“Yes, but it isn’t all fairytale, you see. I have told you; I am the Dark Lord. The villain to many, who just the thought or utterance of my name will send fear down their bones. They call me ‘You-Know-Who’ or ‘He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.’”_ He gave a dark chuckle _. “It is a little funny the lengths they go to avoid things that frighten them. But there was one man who was not afraid of me, who stood up against me everywhere I turned. Albus Dumbledore.”_

 _“You said his name before!”_ Harry gasped. _“When I met you.”_

 _“You remember that? Good job Harry, I’m impressed with your memory.”_ Harry smiled and blushed slightly at the praise. _“Yes, Albus Dumbledore,”_ Voldemort continued. _“He will always be a thorn on my side… he is also the reason why you are here.”_

 _“What do you mean?”_ Harry frowned.

 _“Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts; he was also the leader of a group that opposed me. Your mother and father were actually a part of his group, swayed to his side with a pack of lies,”_ Voldemort said.

Harry gasped, _“You mean you fought my parents? But you’re so nice and helpful!”_

 _“I am nice and helpful only to you Harry, you are my apprentice, and I am in a very awkward spot in regards to my power. I will be needing your help, I fear, in getting my body back,”_ Voldemort explained, _“but yes, your parents and I have fought before, three times in fact, and three times they have eluded me.”_

Harry frowned at that. He looked at the snake he was petting and stopped. A cold chill went down his spine and he found himself asking a question he was afraid to know the answer to. _“How did my parents die? Really. Did you… did you?”_

 _“Yes,”_ Voldemort answered softly. Harry let out a small whimper, his hand moving away from Voldemort. He had half a thought to push the snake away but stopped himself.

_“Why?”_

_“Because of what I knew, or thought I knew,”_ Voldemort said. _“I had a spy who was following Dumbledore. From what I remember, he had an interview. For some reason, he held it in a pub called the Hog’s Head instead of in Hogwarts itself. He was interviewing a person for Divination, and during the interview, the interviewee told a prophecy, a true prophecy. I do not know if it was the whole prophecy or not, but from what I remembered, it was about my doom. A child born at the end of July destined to have the power capable to defeat me. I was scared, naturally, and decided to take action against it. At least, I believe I have. I sent some of my followers to one family while I personally visited the Potters. Your mother and father fought bravely to protect you, and through their sacrifice, I appear before you as I am. That scar on your forehead, that is because of me.”_

 _“You tried to kill me,”_ Harry whispered.

 _“Yes, I tried, and I will not apologize,”_ Voldemort said, _“however the more I think about the whole thing, the uglier it seems. Why was it that Dumbledore had the interview in Hog’s Head instead of Hogwarts? Has my spy heard the whole prophecy or only a part of it? And more importantly, why is it Harry, that you were sent here by Dumbledore himself, to be forgotten about?”_

 _“I don’t understand,”_ Harry frowned, _“You killed my parents, didn’t you?”_

 _“That I did, however, I am merely wondering if it was by my own actions, or if Dumbledore had a hand in it,”_ Voldemort said.

 _“You mean Dumbledore is the reason my mummy and daddy are dead? I’m confused,”_ Harry said. The ball of light above them turned a deep red before disappearing entirely.

 _“Possibly, I cannot say for sure. There is too much that I do not know at the moment,”_ Voldemort answered.

Harry just hummed and stared at Voldemort for a moment. His mind was working overtime trying to process everything he was just told. Voldemort killed his parents, but it might have been because of this Dumbledore person? Why would Dumbledore want to have his parents killed? They were his parents! They were supposed to be nice and good and loving! Now he was stuck with the Dursleys who were anything but that. And Dumbledore is the reason why Voldemort was the way he is, with no body at all and having to use magic to form one. He wanted to hate Voldemort, and maybe he did a little, but Harry found that most of his hatred is going to this person that he did not even meet before.

_“I hate him.”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Dumbledore,”_ Harry clarified. _“I hate him.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for your support and response to the first chapter, I sincerely hope that you all liked this one as well!


	3. Power Sharing

Chapter 3

Power Sharing

Harry felt like his world has changed dramatically. And why shouldn’t it be? It was only a week since he tapped into his magic and felt the warm rush of it, and now he couldn’t help but see things differently. It wasn’t a drastic change. His living situation was just the same, the muggles in his life were always horrible, however at night or whenever he was alone, Harry found himself being comforted by Lord Voldemort and his seemingly infinite knowledge on magic.

Every night Harry was tasked to reach for his magic, and every night he was awarded for his effort with one question. Harry found it hard at first, but he found that every night he did it, it was slowly becoming easier. _“Can you tell me more about Hogwarts?”_ Harry asked on the seventh night of his practice.

 _“What do you want to know, little one?”_ Voldemort hissed, sitting contently on Harry’s chest.

Harry thought for a moment, _“You told me a little about Slytherin, but I want to know more about that House, and the others as well!”_

 _“Of course,”_ Voldemort chuckled. _“Let’s see…It is the greatest of the four Houses. There are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each named after a founder of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. The houses all represent the traits that each Founder valued the most. For Gryffindor, it was the courageous and brave, the chivalrous wizards who would always go out to save someone. Ravenclaw valued intelligence, wit, and cleverness along with creativity. For Hufflepuff, loyalty, and patience, that house was opened to all. Slytherin, however, valued ambition and cunningness. He wanted those who were clear leaders and most of all resourceful. … However, there was another requirement for Slytherin. Blood purity.”_

_“Blood purity?”_

Voldemort nodded. _“Slytherin hated Muggleborns—witches, and wizards with muggle parents. He much preferred that Hogwarts only taught those who are Purebloods, children whose ancestry is entirely magical. Half-bloods, those with muggle relatives on one side of the family, and muggleborns were completely unworthy in his eyes. Humorous then, that his current descendant and heir is a Half-blood.”_ Voldemort stared at Harry knowingly, and Harry just nodded.

 _“What am I?”_ he asked curiously.

 _“To me, it does not matter. Power is power. My followers believed in blood purity, however, and I allowed them to play their games. It kept them useful. If you really want to know, Harry, you are just like me. A Half-Blood. Your father is from the long Potter family, and your mother was a muggleborn, and one of the bravest women I have ever fought,”_ Voldemort answered truthfully.

 _“Ohh,”_ Harry hissed, he felt a little awkward as he remembered that, yes, his savior and mentor killed his parents. Even if it was not fully Voldemort’s fault. He pushed the thought away and shook his head, _“How do you choose which House you get into? How will I get into Slytherin?”_

 _“There is a sorting hat,”_ Voldemort answered. He paused, as though catching his breath. _“When you arrive at Hogwarts, you along with the rest of the first years shall all be sorted before the opening feast before the entire school. One by one you’ll be sorted, some it takes minutes while others, it is instantaneous. For me, it was almost immediately.”_

Harry nodded and smiled as he petted Voldemort’s scales. _“I’ll be in Slytherin, even if I have to bully the hat into putting me there,”_ he said.

Voldemort chuckled. _“My apprentice, if you keep on like this, you will be sorted even before the hat touches a single hair on your head.”_ That reassured Harry and he felt himself falling asleep soon afterward. Voldemort watched him, content in staying in this form until he was forced to turn back into a wraith and rest his energy.

The next day, Harry was caught by Dudley’s gang once more. It was a rainy day, and Harry hoped that the rain would deter his pursuers, but it only seemed to invigorate them as they chased Harry down sidewalks, over fences, and across lawns. Harry thought that they would stop if he reached the Dursleys’ home first, however they did not. Piers and Gordon grabbed Harry by his arms and dragged him to the back of the house where there was a small backyard with a single tree as Dudley went inside. They threw him roughly against the tree and laughed.

“That was fun,” Dudley said walking back out. He was holding a long knobby stick. “Guys look at this! It’s my dad’s old Smelting stick!”

“Cool! How about we give Potter a few whacks with it?” Piers grinned.

“That’s what I was thinking, moron,” Dudley said. “Look hold his arms.”

Gordon and Malcolm held Harry’s arms as he tried to struggle free. Dudley stepped in front of Harry and held the stick in both of his hands. “I saw those American baseball players swing it like this,” he grinned, and he pulled the stick back, waving it a couple of times, before swinging it hard against Harry’s side.

Harry cried out in pain, the bruise flaring as his body shuttered. The boys around him laughed as Dudley readied himself again. He swung even harder and Harry screamed just as a bolt of thunder arc through the air. “Home run!” Dudley cried out laughing.

The others laughed with him but Malcolm said confused, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know it’s something those Americans say,” Dudley shrugged.

“Oh—ohh give the stick to me I want a turn,” Piers said. He grabbed the stick from Dudley, yanking it out of his grasp. Harry looked up at Piers and did not like the look he was giving Harry. It reminded Harry of Aunt Marge’s dogs whenever they saw a tasty piece of meat or him. “This is going to hurt Potter,” Piers grinned and he swung the cane. It hit Harry directly in his stomach and the boy tried to double over, coughing in pain, but Gordon and Malcolm kept him against the tree. His stomach hurt. Harry couldn’t even begin to describe it, it felt like the fat top of the Smelting Stick was pressed through him with large branches sprouting all around. Piers immediately swung back and hit Harry again, and again.

Harry’s skin was soon drenched from both the rainfall and his own sweat and tears. Gordon and Malcolm have both let him go after the third hit and just stepped back as Harry curled around himself, crying as he begged mentally for Voldemort. _Please stop them I need your help. It hurts please come help me._

But help never came. Piers continued to hit Harry. The laughter around him died out nervously. The rain continued on and Dudley looked around at the others. “Let’s go, this is boring,” he said.

“No, I’m having fun,” Piers said, “One more hit right against his head!” He pulled back the furthest, twisting his body around as ready to smash the cane into Harry the hardest he could. Harry just flinched and prepared himself, “No!” he said as Piers swung the stick.

There was a second of silence.

There was no pain at all. Then Harry heard the screams. He looked up to see the Smelting Stick split in two and his bullies screaming in pain. Harry blinked, confused about how they were in pain before he saw their arms. Long deep gashes tore across each boys’ arms, blood bleeding from the wounds. The group of bullies screamed, their pain only intensifying as rain fell on their open cuts. “What happened?” Gordon yelled.

“What’s going on? It hurts!”

“MUMMY!” Dudley screamed and the group all ran inside, leaving Harry forgotten. The boy just continued to stay where he was, staring transfixed at where the others were just moments ago. The grass was wet, but he could see that some were stained red. He couldn’t pull his eyes off of that. The redness of the grass that refused to be washed away from the rain. It was strangely reassuring. His body hurt, he could feel things that he knew he shouldn’t feel, but it did not matter strangely enough. He just smiled a small sick satisfaction going through him. He made them hurt. He made them cry. He knew it. That wasn’t Lord Voldemort saving him, that was entirely him. He was worried that Voldemort did not interfere, but he also couldn’t wait to tell him later that night!

His bruises went unspoken when he walked inside. Dudley and his friends were all crying over bowls of ice cream, their arms looking weird being covered by bandages. Nobody looked at Harry, they all acted like he did not exist at all, which Harry was happy with. Uncle Vernon yelled at him, of course, but for Harry breaking his Smelting Stick instead of Dudley and his friends’ wrapped up arms. Harry was sent to bed without dinner after Uncle Vernon smacked him. His cheeks stung with pain, but he didn’t care, now he could be with Voldemort!

His Mentor did not appear at once like he always did, nor was he waiting for Harry. Instead, Harry had to wait almost ten minutes before he saw a mist solidify in front of him, morphing into a snake. _“Apologies, little one, it seems to have taken me longer to manifest today,”_ Voldemort said.

Harry smiled, _“It’s okay! You have to listen to what happened!”_ He retold his story excitedly, vibrating slightly on his bed as he told it. When he was finished, he waited for Voldemort's approval.

 _“I am glad to see that your magic is acting defensively. It seems that you are becoming more aware of your power, and because of that you are performing accidental magic more often. Obviously, I am glad to see that you are mostly unharmed, however, I am even prouder to hear of the vengeance that you have dealt with to these horrible muggles. That said, I want you to rest… for I find myself tired. … Rest Harry, and let your body heal.”_ Voldemort said.

Harry felt a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to learn new magic, However, he knew that Voldemort was right. Now that he had a moment to rest, Harry could feel his body screaming in pain. He winced at every small movement he did and had a feeling that he will definitely bruise. But any bruises he’ll have, Harry would wear with pride. After all, he caused the others to bleed.

Before Harry knew it, a month has passed, and he couldn’t help but notice that his mentor seemed strange. It started taking Voldemort longer than usual to appear in front of him. In fact, there were times where Voldemort did not appear at all, only to tell Harry that he was too busy drawing and building up magic to appear. Harry was worried, but still, he couldn’t help but be excited over the new things he’d learned. Every night he practiced feeling his magic, making the orbs of light appeared, even the nights that Voldemort did not show up. It was getting even easier for Harry, so much so that he just needed to wave his finger in a circle and the orb of light would appear after a moment. He also learned that he wasn’t speaking English with Voldemort, but Parseltongue, the language of snakes! That was cool to learn, especially after the Dark Lord told him that only those connected to Slytherin could do it! And that there were only he and Voldemort who could speak it. It was another special thing that connected Harry to his savior.

Tonight, however, Harry only felt concerned as he stared at the snake sitting in front of him. Voldemort looked drained and constantly tired. His scales grayed, no longer a beautiful green and it took him longer to speak. _“Harry… apologies. It seems that my magic… is taking longer… to replenish.”_

 _“Are you going to be okay, Lord Voldemort?”_ Harry asked.

 _“I do not know, I must find a way to replenish my magic,”_ Voldemort offered truthfully.

Harry bit his lower lip in worry. _“What will happen if you don’t?”_

 _“I may be stuck as a wraith and forced to find other methods of survival,”_ Voldemort admitted, and Harry panicked. He would lose his Mentor!? No! He can’t have that! He refused.

Harry looked at Voldemort and thought. There had to be some way for Voldemort to get magic! Maybe his? Would that work? Would Harry be willing to give Voldemort his magic? Of course, he would. He wanted Voldemort to stay, no he needed it. Harry needed Voldemort. He did not want to be alone in his cupboard ever again. _“Use mine.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Lord Voldemort, please use my magic,”_ Harry said. _“Please, I don’t want you to go away.”_

Voldemort stared at Harry. _“You would do that Harry?”_ Harry nodded confidently. Voldemort hissed pleasantly. _“You are too kind to me, my little snake. Very well.”_

_“What do I need to do?”_

_“Just lay down and focus on your magic,”_ Voldemort ordered. Harry nodded and took off his glasses as he did his best to shimmy down on his mattress, careful not to hurt his Dark Lord as he did so. He closed his eyes and felt a small weight on his stomach and chest as Voldemort slithered onto him. Out of habit, Harry’s hand move to pet his scales as he took a breath and focused on his magic. He immediately felt its warm embrace and smiled. _“That’s it, Harry, now pull at it. Drag your magic out of you and towards me. Let me share your power, little snake.”_

Harry immediately began to do as he was told. He imaged wrapping his hands around the warm feeling and pulling, like a rope, away from him. The warm feeling grew, spreading around Harry’s body but still concentrating on his chest. He could feel something pull from him and then Voldemort started hissing out in a language he did not understand. A pressure started to build in Harry’s chest and his head started to hurt, the pain centering around the scar on his forehead. He whimpered in pain but kept focusing on pulling his magic. The pressure grew along with the pain. His legs jerked but he did his best to stay laying down. It felt weird. He was getting tired. He could feel his arms growing heavy, but he kept on pulling. Voldemort told him. Voldemort needed him. Harry wanted to help Voldemort.

Voldemort’s voice started to sound stronger. Harry felt that it was working, and he smiled. The weight on him started to feel heavier. His forehead throbbed painfully before dulling, and his magic rested, staying at a steady pressure that connected Harry to his Mentor. The mass laying on him began to grow as Voldemort continued to chant. His voice changed as well, the distinct hissing disappearing, becoming deeper, like an adult male’s, before pitching higher and higher. Harry wanted to open his eyes, to peak and see what was happening, but he still felt like he needed to focus on his magic. He could feel the pull on it slackening and he took that as his cue to return his magic. He felt the warm glow returning back to deep inside him, nestling in between his heart and stomach. “Open your eyes, Harry.”

Harry opened his eyes slowly and gave a gasp. There was a boy laying on him now. The boy looked to be around a couple of years older than Harry. He had dark brown hair and eyes with a handsome face. He was wearing very old-looking clothes that looked to be from before even Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s time! The boy was smiling at Harry before sitting up to examine his body. “Interesting,” he muttered. “Is this a glamour like my reflection of my Animagus form, or a second chance of youth?”

Harry stared at the boy for a moment before gasping, “Lord Voldemort?” he asked.

The boy chuckled, “Yes, little snake. It is me. However, I did not expect this to happen.” He continued to examine himself, feeling everywhere he could reach. “Your magic is delicious,” he purred. Harry blinked at him confused.

“It is?”

“Yes, and so much more powerful than I was thinking. I was planning on only taking a little, however, I feel that I took a little bit more, as well as felt something else,” Voldemort said. Harry continued to just stare at him as he did his best to fight back a yawn. Voldemort sighed and moved so that they were both sharing the bed. Harry turned towards him and, out of habit wrapped an arm around his mentor before realizing what he was doing. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Voldemort shook his head and pulled Harry towards him. “Think of it as a reward little snake,” he muttered. “You’ve already done so much for me. I’m not sure how long I can hold this form, but I’m confident I can stay like this all night at least.” Harry nodded and smiled as he cuddled closer to his mentor. Voldemort awkwardly wrapped his arms around Harry and just smiled at the sensation of just touching and holding the boy. He sat on the boy’s chest as a snake, yes, and drifted by him as a wraith, but holding him, actually holding him in a body of his own, was different. A swell of protectiveness came in Voldemort as he looked down at his perfect apprentice. Sleeping so innocently and yet the boy was practically radiating dark magic. “You truly would be a waste in Dumbledore’s hands,” Voldemort chuckled to himself softly. “Though I cannot help but wonder why it is I’ve become a small boy once more, instead of a snake or adult?”

“I like it,” Harry muttered sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes. “You’re better to talk with than an adult.”

Voldemort chuckled. “I thought I ordered you to sleep,” he said.

“I’m trying,” Harry yawned. “Sorry.”

Voldemort just hummed. He continued to wonder why it was that Harry’s magic had him turn back into a child. He knew that he truly was not a child again, this was simply a form that his magic created just like his snake form. Was it because of that one small moment when Harry saw him like this before they met officially? Or was it because even though Harry had Voldemort as his mentor, what the boy wanted, deep down, was a friend? A fellow child who could relate to him? The Dark Lord found himself feeling perplexed, but in the end, it did not matter. He would be whatever Harry wishes him to be. He needed the boy after all to regain his body. And the thought of corrupting this child and pulling him further away from what Dumbledore and the rest of the wizarding world are expecting him to be is just too enticing for the Dark Lord to pass up. And his magic. Voldemort was truthful when he sensed it, the boy had a potential amount of Dark Magic inside him, why his magical core is simply drenched in it. Much more than any other normal witch or wizard would have. It was curious, and Voldemort knew he felt something strange inside the boy when he shared his magic, but he knew he will find out eventually. Harry Potter was his after all, and they had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our little boy is growing up little by little, and before we know it he'll be in Hogwarts! But not for the next chapter... or the chapter after that. Instead, we have a bit of... fun to have. Fun for who? Find out Next time!


	4. Deadly Grief

Chapter 4

Deadly Grief

Harry couldn’t believe that he was already eight years old. It seemed only yesterday that Voldemort came into his life and now he was eight, and practically thriving with his magic. Ever since they shared magic, Harry found that Voldemort started to really take care of him, much more than the Dursleys. Whenever he was sent to his room without dinner, Voldemort would make food and drink appear so Harry can eat. He still was small for his age, but he did not care. He had Voldemort, who has rarely turned into a child again since the first night of sharing magic, instead his mentor preferring to stay as a snake, and he had his magic. That was enough. And oh, his magic! It was developing at a pace that made Lord Voldemort swell with pride. Harry could make orbs of light with just a waggle of his finger, snap small flames into existence for a moment or two, and make small objects levitate if he concentrates _REALLY_ hard!

Lord Voldemort, too, seemed to be strengthening throughout the year as well. Ever since the first time they shared power, Voldemort felt invigorated, youthful almost, and more chained to the mortal realm. So, once a month, he would ask Harry for a bit of his power, and they would do the ritual again. Each time, Voldemort felt that strange darkness inside Harry, a darkness that was separate from the boy’s own power but still somehow familiar. He felt like he was close to figuring out what exactly was in his little apprentice, but only time will tell what exactly. In the meantime, Voldemort began teaching Harry the more unique ways to use magic.

For example, there was a girl in Harry’s class with the vile name of Susan Ugliano. Even Voldemort was amused, for a time, by her horrendous name, however, his amusement stopped as he observed her behavior. She was an American transfer and seemed to bring with her American manners. She sat next to Harry and always chewed gum loud enough for Harry to hear it and break his concentration. His apprentice, being the naively sweet boy that he was, tried to ask her nicely if she could chew with her mouth close. His request only got Harry gum flicked on his desk in return and a loud braying that was her laughter. That night, Harry complained to Voldemort about her, and her loud horse laugh. “I don’t know what to do with her! There has to be something!” he pouted.

“Of course there is, my little snake,” Voldemort said, choosing this night to stay as a child during their practice. Harry was able to sneak out of the cupboard and house so that they could both sit under the starry sky in the backyard. “All you need to do is ask, and I will teach you.”

“Oh, well she’s always chewing that disgusting gum!” Harry complained. “I want it to rot her teeth or uh turn into something disgusting-tasting like spinach or garbage!”

Voldemort laughed, “Easy enough Harry all you need is to concentrate,” He waved his hand and the door opened, an apple floating from it that was obviously from the bowl of fruit that only Harry and Aunt Petunia eat from. “As with other magic, a wand will make it easier, give you a conduit to focus your magic, however you can still do this wandless. In fact Harry, I am hoping that by the time you are at Hogwarts, you can perform simple spells and charms perfectly without the use of a wand, like your light summoning spell.”

“Yeah,” Harry grinned. He waved his finger in a small circle and a ball of light appeared.

“Yes, exactly,” Voldemort nodded. “Now, to change the taste of food, we will be actually using an incantation. The incantation is _Gustutatio._ Repeat that Harry.”

“Gus-tut-a-tio… Gus-tu-ta-tio… _Gustutatio,”_ Harry said, his tongue feeling funny as he did his best to pronounce the word. Voldemort nodded and Harry smiled.

“Good Harry, good! Now the next step is to imagine the taste you are changing your target to,” Voldemort said.

“Garbage,” Harry said. “Icky, smelling, disgusting garbage.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Then imagine that and focus on the apple.” Harry nodded and stared at the apple. He pointed his finger at it and said with confidence, _“Gustutatio!”_ Nothing happened. Harry felt no special feeling or any wind blowing. He leaned towards the apple and sniffled, the apple smelling normal. “Try again,” Voldemort said.

Harry did. He tried again and again. On the fourth, he felt his fingers tingle and grinned as he somehow knew that the spell worked. Voldemort examined the apple and for a moment Harry thought he was going to try it, but he did not. Instead, Voldemort smiled and nodded. “Good job Harry,” he praised. “That awful muggle would not know what hit her.”

Harry grinned and cheered softly. He did it two more times, changing the apple to taste like strawberries and bananas before the two decided to call it a night. The next day, Susan Ugliano had a pack of gum sitting on her desk. Harry waited until she went to the bathroom and pointed his finger at the pack under his own desk. Thinking about the most disgusting, smelly garbage possible, Harry kept whispering under his breath, _“Gustutatio”_ until he felt the familiar swell of his magic working.

Susan came back and Harry did his best to look innocent as he focused on their teacher. Susan took out a piece of gum and unwrapped it, throwing the foil wrapper at Harry. Harry ignored it and looked down at his math work. He heard Susan put the piece of gum in her mouth and chewed. Once, twice, three times. A loud hacking began, and Harry hid a giggle as Susan stood up, coughing, and spitting desperately. She spat her gum on her desk and threw up a second later. “MISS UGLIANO WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?” their teacher screamed. Susan just threw up more. The class laughed, Harry, joining in as Susan ran out, throwing up all the way. Harry felt very accomplished with himself. The teacher had the surrounding students move their desks away, and when Susan returned she had to clean up her mess. She saw Harry snickering and glared at him.

He figured that she must have blamed him for her garbage gum, for some reason, for the next day she started throwing more at him. Gum wrappers and dried gum, as well as erasures and small pointy pencils. So Harry retaliated with the spells Voldemort taught him. He learned that he could take small amounts of money from the kids who laughed at him instantly, as though they just teleport into his pocket. Sometimes Susan and Piers’ pencils spat out water everywhere, or Dudley’s entire hair turned into a crazy blue. Snacks also started to get missing, appearing in Harry’s desk before the wrappers moved to Dudley’s. Every day Harry was bullied, and every day Harry retaliated with magic that nobody noticed. He was getting better at handling his magic, making things do exactly what he wanted. Dudley and his gang continued to chase him, catching him sometimes, but it did not matter for Harry curled into himself and planned on his revenge. The students were starting to avoid him even more obvious now. There were whispers of “that strange Potter kid” and things that happened around him, but Harry did not care. He finally had something to fight back with, and he was going to use it. Besides, in Harry’s mind, he was doing nothing wrong. They deserve what happened to them, and these were all harmless jokes.

It was currently January, and last night brought a blanket of snow. Harry still had school and was shivering as he tried to warm himself without using the magic fire Voldemort showed him. He was surrounded by people, wearing hand-me-down clothes and a jacket that was thinner than a piece of paper. During class, he could run to the bathroom to warm himself with the spell, but walking back to Uncle Vernon’s house, he had no chance to himself. The best he could do was hold onto himself as he rubbed his arms. His shirt was sticking with sweat; his shoes were drenched because he stepped into a puddle which looked suspiciously like frozen ice, and his glasses kept fogging with every other step.

He stopped to desperately try to warm himself when he heard a voice. “POTTER!”

Dudley and his gang were behind him, all bundled up properly. “You look a little cold Potter,” Dudley taunted, “How about a run to warm you up? I think our fists would help.” The others all grunted and chuckled. Harry swallowed and took a step back, slipping on ice but still stood. He turned as quickly as he could, running down the pavement as Dudley yelled to chase after him.

Harry ran down the street until he could cut into an alleyway. Through the alleyway, Harry scrambled over a fence into someone’s backyard. There was a park nearby with a big empty field and lots of trees, he hoped to lose them in that. He stopped to catch his breath and looked over his shoulder to see Dudley’s goons pushing his fat cousin up over the fence, struggling as he did so. Harry laughed at the display only for Dudley to glare at him. “Piers get him! We’ll catch up!”

Piers, being the smallest and fastest of the group, nodded and immediately jetted for Harry, who screamed and started running once more. There was no one else in the park, no one even around strangely enough, but Harry did not care. He just needed to make it to the trees and then he could lose them. His legs started to burn as he had to pull them out of the snow with every step. His chest ached as his lungs felt on fire. He was sure that his entire body was turning red but it did not matter. He needed to run. Needed to lose them in the trees. Then he could rest.

Dudley was over the fence. His face and front were covered with snow. He pointed at Harry and yelled something, but Harry couldn’t hear. It was like his ears stopped working, all he thought about was running and the trees. The safe haven where he could get lost in inching closer and closer with each labored step. He was almost there. The trees were getting closer and closer, he could smell them off the winter air.

His feet stumbled on the snow, his legs wobbled, gave up, and Harry fell.

Piers caught him, jumping on his bed and hooking his arms around Harry’s. “I got him!” He cheered. “Dudley look!”

Harry struggled to throw the rat-faced boy off of him, but Piers just held harder. “Watch it, Potter, I told you my brother’s teaching me things, we don’t want me to do them to you, huh?” Piers threatened in Harry’s ear. The rest of the gang caught up and Piers did the first blow. He twisted Harry so that he was on his back, and then punched him directly in his face. There was a squishy crunch sound as Harry’s nose broke and started to bleed. It was warm against his cold skin, but it only made Harry feel a sense of dread that he never felt before.

The bullies laughed and Piers was pushed off of Harry so Dudley can have his turn. Dudley grinned mercilessly at Harry as he raised his fist. “You’re such a waste!” he laughed and punched Harry, “Everyone blames me for eating those treats, but I see you eating them you freak! Don’t know how you get them in my desk but you’re doing it somehow you freaky freak!” Dudley punched and kicked Harry wherever he could reach. He punches Harry’s eyes, smashing his glasses, the shards cutting into the boy’s skin, and miraculously missing the eyes themselves, his cheeks, jaw, everywhere that Dudley could reach was spared no mercy as he worked out his aggression on Harry.

Harry’s face bruised, becoming a mixture of dark purples and blues and reds as his nose continued to bleed. He continued to struggle but Dudley punched his forehead, and suddenly he felt very dizzy and nauseous. Vomit pushed up his throat and he did his best to swallow it down before he choked. The gang just laughed around him. Dudley stood up and jumped on his arm, Harry giving a weak scream of pain. His cousin did not break his bones, miraculously, however, it still hurt. Then Gordon jumped on his other arm as Malcolm and Dennis jumped on his legs. Pain surged. Harry cried but that only provoked them more. Through his blurry vision, he could see the white snow staining with his blood and he tried to call for Voldemort. His voice gargled and Harry coughed and spat out blood and vomit.

The assault continued. Harry did not even know who was doing what anymore. Punches and kicks all rolled into just a singular sensation of pain that Harry did his best to endure. He tried to curl into himself, but hands held his arms and legs out. There were cracks when someone kicked him, and he was sure that his ribs were breaking. The pain became too much. His tears never stopped. Everything was turning black. _Was this how it’s like to die?_ That dark thought moved in Harry’s head. Was he going to die now? Now after eight years of living? After finally finding comfort and power in Voldemort. Is this all that is left for him? To die? No. He didn’t want to die. He was afraid, very afraid, of the thought! He was too young! He didn’t even fully learn how to write in script yet! But he couldn’t do anything. He felt too weak. There were too many people. He only could beg that it would be over soon.

But it wasn’t. The gang continued to kick and punch until Harry couldn’t scream anymore. He just whimpered voicelessly and barely moved. Dudley scoffed and stared down at Harry. “I’m bored,” He said. “Come on! Let’s go somewhere else.”

The snow around Harry was kicked up, a mixture of red and white. He did not bleed much, there was no sense from anyone that he would die. He was just in a lot of pain, but still, Harry felt like he was going to die any moment now. But at least, he would do it in peace. Alone.

“You guys go on, I wanna do one more thing my brother taught me,” Piers grinned.

“You’re sick Piers!” Gordon laughed.

“Wasn’t your brother in like juvie or something?” Malcolm asked.

“Yeah, he’s totally awesome!” Piers grinned. “You saw his magazines!”

The group laughed and said goodbye. Harry heard Dudley and his friends walking away, leaving just him and Piers. Piers gave a chuckle and stepped towards Harry, kneeling down to pick up his broken glasses next to him. One lens was completely shattered with the other cracked in half. Harry’s eyes strained as he tried to focus on Piers. “You see me, Potter? I want you to see exactly what I do to you,” He grinned. “You know my brother right? Went to one of those Offender Institutions or whatever the hell those big wigs call ‘em. Point is, he learned some great things you get to do with guys like you, and being the best big bro he taught them to me too! You want to see what he taught me?” Piers laughed. He pulled Harry out until he was laying on his back then stood on top of him, leering at Harry with an expression he didn’t understand. It scared Harry deep to his core. He did not know what Piers was going to do, he did not want to know, he wanted to get away. Piers reached for his pants and Harry screamed.

“GET AWAY!”

The snow erupted. Large black snakes all flew out of the sky, as though rocketed from the earth itself. These snakes were thicker than Harry’s legs, and twice the size of a regular eight-year-old. The snakes all flew at Piers, pushing him off of Harry and away. Piers screamed and Harry had just enough strength to push himself up to see what was happening.

Piers was on the ground, struggling to fight the multitude of snakes that surrounded him. His legs and arms waved madly. He screamed and cried, “Get them off! Get them off! Someone get them off!” The snakes had their heads arched back, posing to strike. One did, his mouth opened to reveal large sharp fangs dripping with green venom. Piers screamed as the snaked bit him and pulled back, ripping out at the skin and muscles. Harry couldn’t scream at what he saw. Piers’ arm had a hole in it, a large hole that was the chunk that the snake bit out. Around it was bloodied skin and muscles all gushing and convulsing, and right at the bottom was the white of Piers’ bone. Piers’ scream pierced the air around them, but for some reason, there was no one around to stop the snakes, just as there was no one around to help Harry. The snakes struck again, tearing more chunks from the boy. Blood gushed and sprayed everywhere, painting the snow but it never touched the snakes who continued to be black as midnight.

Harry could not look away. He could not scream or move. He watched helplessly as the snakes tore at Piers. His entire right arm was gone, and half of his legs were now just bloodied bones. Piers was still alive, however, screaming and pleading for help. “Harry! Please Harry help! Please I don’t want to die! I’m sorry! Mummy, please help!” Harry just stared, his body barely trembling as the snakes started to tear at the boy’s midsection. The snakes started to fight over the organs that they ripped out, hissing and pulling like starved crazed animals. Piers’ pleas ended, but his eyes still moved, his face covered with blood, snot, and tears. With a final scream, a snake lunged at Piers’ throat, and with a final spray of blood, the body was wrapped in a black mass as the snakes all seemed to conform together. There were no more screams. No more tears. No more blood.

The mass disappeared, leaving just the stained blood and clean white bones.

Harry just stared. At the bones. At the blood. At the things that used to be his bully Piers. His cousin’s friend. He was gone. No, he was dead. The snakes killed him. The snakes that should not be here normally. The snakes that Harry summons. Piers was dead. The snakes killed him. Harry killed him. Harry killed him. Harry killed him. Harry—Harry—Harry was a murderer. “No…” Harry’s voice was so small and fragile that the wind could barely carry it. Piers was dead. Harry killed him. “No…” Chunks of Piers’ body was torn apart. Blood sprayed everywhere. Piers did not want to die. But Harry killed him. “No.” He pleaded for his mother. He was a bully. Piers was going to do something. He was just a kid. The snakes fought over his organs. Blood everywhere. Harry Potter was a murderer. “NO!”

Harry broke. He screamed and cried until everything hurt again and his voice was hoarse. He wanted it to go away. He wanted everything to go away. But the bones were still there. The blood still stained the snow. He never wanted to do magic again. He needed to do magic to get away. Voldemort was going to leave. Voldemort was going to be disgusted at what he was. He was alone. He needed to be alone. He wanted to be with someone. He needed Voldemort.

Arms wrapped around him and Harry barely looked up to see the young face of Voldemort holding onto him. “Harry,” he breathed. Harry just held onto him and cried. His broken body finally calming down, finally throbbing fully with his pain as he held onto Voldemort, his own life support. Through his tears, Harry did his best to try and tell what happened. Voldemort just listened to him. Silently casting a warming spell around them so the cold wouldn’t affect them. Harry’s body started to feel life again. Voldemort shifted so that Harry was laying on his lap. “Everything will be okay, my little snake,” Voldemort promised. He petted Harry and everywhere his fingers touched, the pain disappeared. Harry’s cuts were healed, his ribs felt like they were moving back in place, and strength returned to his arms and legs. Harry just cried silently, looking away from the bloodied snow and bones. Voldemort saw this and frowned. “I will make sure that nobody is suspicious of you Harry, you just need to rest,” Voldemort promised. Harry just continued to cry.

Voldemort petted his apprentice’s hair with one hand as he waved the other, concentrating on the mess in front of him. The snow absorbed the blood and bones, both sinking into the ground until nothing was left. He sighed and continued to pet Harry. His sobbing has subsided, and he looked as though he was on the verge of falling asleep. “Stay awake little snake,” Voldemort said soothingly. “Even with magic, sleeping in the snow would not be a good idea.” Harry just murmured something but allowed Voldemort to help him on his feet. He leaned on Voldemort heavily, still someplace between awake and asleep. Voldemort wrapped an arm around Harry and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You remind me so much of him, it is truly spectacular,” he said.

“Who?” Harry said sleepily.

“My first significant other,” Voldemort said, smiling a little. “He was a lot like you, Harry. Smart, resourceful, tough, and yet soft despite it all.”

“What happened?”

Tom’s smile faltered. “He was too pure,” he said sadly. “My sweet little Adrian. He was too pure, too good… but I’ll tell you that another day, my little snake. I want to make sure that you are okay first.” Harry nodded before drifting off. Voldemort brought Harry back to the Dursleys, and though he wanted to put Harry in a proper bed, he was forced to put him back into the cupboard. The fat whale tried to scream when he saw Voldemort, but the Dark Lord just froze him, as well as the horse-woman and the fat cousin. He did not want to deal with any muggles. He made sure that Harry had food and water in his cupboard and placed both a warming and locking spell on the door so that his apprentice would stay safe. He took a second to wipe himself from the muggles’ memories and stepped out the door.

He was starting to feel tired, sustaining this form and using magic was taking a lot of the Dark Lord, but still, he knew that he had enough for what he needed to do. He had followed Harry’s attackers often enough that he memorized where they all lived. The child Piers lived only a few houses away, and so it took the young-looking Dark Lord little time to get there.

He did not bother knocking. Instead, the door unlocked to his touch. He may be in the temporary form of a ten-year-old, and he may not have all of his power, but the Dark Lord was still powerful, a fact that he was particularly prideful of and such he did not even need to bother with pretending to be an innocent child. He froze every muggle he saw, two adults and a teenager, and walked around the home until he found Piers’ room.

His room was very ordinary, almost to a fault. Clothes and toys were scattered everywhere, and on the messy bed, poorly hidden under pillows, were erotic magazines that made Tom roll his eyes. As though this child would even know what to do with those body parts. The Dark Lord worked quickly. He found a piece of paper and pencil, and in his best imitation of Piers’ handwriting, he wrote a short note stating that Piers was going to run away. He left it on the pile of magazines and left without another word. With his simple task completed, Voldemort exited through the backyard, snapping his fingers to unfreeze the muggles. He took a deep breath and felt his body disappearing. He felt lighter, almost like wisps of vapor as he turned back into a wraith. He stayed in the home, only to make sure that the note was found and the muggles were convinced, and then he left to watch over his little snake, whom he found still sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was heavy... but don’t worry, next chapter will be good for Harry hopefully.


	5. Control

Chapter 5

Control

Harry did not speak for a week. Not to anyone. His teachers, his bullies, not even Voldemort. He felt heavy, yet hollow. Like something was taken out of him only to be replaced by a useless ball that weighed a ton. He moved through the motions of living. Waking up, eating the scrapes that Dursleys give him, going to school, and getting beat up. He did not even try to run. At nights, he was plagued by nightmares. He could still see it, those horrible black snakes that he conjured tearing into Piers. Those horrible sounds as flesh and muscles were ripped, leaving nothing but bones. And blood. So much blood. Harry was afraid to sleep the first time it happened. He managed to stay up for two nights before his body failed him and he rested. All while Voldemort hovered over him, taking care of him. The muggles began to whisper about his odd behavior, giving him sorry looks. “The poor dear, he’s taking it so hard,” his teachers would say, “I always saw him with that boy. They must have been the best of friends.” Harry could only sneer at them. He remembered the blows, the punches, the kicks, and insults before blood washed over it.

It was exactly a week later. Harry was away from everybody, sitting with Voldemort on a nearby hill. The snow around them was mostly melted as it has been an unusually hot week for this time of year. “I killed him.” Harry’s voice was small, weak, but Voldemort heard him all the same.

“Yes, you did,” Voldemort nodded. “Call it self-defense, which it was, however, you did kill him.”

“They’re not going after me. They said he ran away,” Harry muttered. Voldemort sighed and wrapped an arm around the small Potter boy.

“That is because I took care of it, Harry,” he said.

“You take good care of me,” Harry muttered. “I don’t get it. Why do you do this?”

“Hmm? If you are wondering why I am acting so… kindly to you, so caring, it can be explained with selfish reasons,” Voldemort said. “However know that I do not act like this to anyone. In fact, you are only the second person who I act like this towards.”

“But why?” Harry asked.

Voldemort hesitated for a moment. “Because you remind me of Adrian, and of myself,” he answered. “I was once weak like you. Powerless. I lived in an orphanage where the muggle children treated me cruelly. Did everything your cousin and his brutes did and more. The matron allowed it. I was the son of a tramp in her eyes, a burden placed upon her. I was around your age actually when I learned an important lesson.”

“What did you learn?” Harry asked.

“Power comes only to those who seek it and uses it. I knew I was different for a long time. That I was better than the muggles around me. Superior. I could do things nobody else could. I could talk to snakes, move things without touching them, and make animals do my bidding. So I started to use that power and have my revenge.”

“Revenge,” Harry whispered.

“Yes Harry,” Voldemort nodded. “The muggles did horrible things to me, just as they did horrible things to you. It is in our right as wizards to take revenge and show them their place. I’ve stolen their precious toys and possessions, made their pets disappear, and lured them into a cave where they experienced the worst of nightmares. Every horror they’ve done to me, I’ve returned. Just as you’ve returned the horrors to Piers.”

“My killing was revenge,” Harry whispered.

“Your murder of the boy was revenge, yes, but it was also a show of power. Of control. You are a powerful wizard Harry. Not just anyone could do the things you have done with or without a wand,” Voldemort said. “It’s time that you realize that, Harry. You have an arsenal at your disposal. Magic. Use it. Use it, my little snake, and better your life as we take vengeance on those abusive muggles!”

Harry just stared out. The heavy feeling in his gut that filled the empty spot inside him shifted. He felt weird. Like once again he was seeing the world anew. He gave a soft chuckle. The weight shifted more inside him, banging inside like an egg about to hatch. “I can… use my magic,” Harry said slowly, “to make my life better. I can use my magic on everyone who is ever mean to me… and take revenge.” The weight inside him shift more, and something cracked. The weight disappeared entirely, and Harry felt like that hole inside him was filled with a new revelation! He was a wizard! A powerful wizard! He killed Piers because it was his right to. Piers bullied him. Piers was about to do something worse to him! So Harry had to do it. It was right. Just. He was superior.

Harry gave another chuckle and looked at Voldemort. “I never want to be powerless again,” he said. “Teach me, please. I want control. I want control over everything!”

Voldemort gave an amused chuckle and pulled Harry closer, “Of course my little snake. There are spells that can give you that, of course. Control over people, that is. The most powerful, and the one that I use often is the Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses, but there are weaker, easier versions that I can teach you—”

“No, I want that one. Teach me the Imperius Curse, Voldemort. Please,” Harry said, adding the please more as an afterthought.

“Remember your place and age,” Voldemort warned. “You are my apprentice, you will not order me around, Potter. And no, that spell is much too complex and advance for you. It will drain your magic, it is much too Dark for you right now.”

“I need it,” Harry said. “I need that spell Voldemort, please. I want control over my life!”

“Foolish boy,” Voldemort muttered. “Just like him.” The Dark Lord sighed and looked out to watch the sky with Harry. The sun was beginning to set, shades of oranges and pinks mixing with the horizon of snow-coated houses and fields. “If you keep demanding the strongest spells when you are not ready, the magic will overwhelm you, Harry,” he said with sincerity. “I’ve seen it happened once before. I refuse to see it happen again.”

Harry looked at Voldemort a little sadly. “I still want to learn it,” he said. “I have to learn it. I need control Voldemort, please. I’m begging you.”

Voldemort shook his head. “I’m too bloody nice,” he muttered. “I will tell you about the Imperius Curse, Harry, but remember it is much too advanced for you to perform right now. What you can do right now is amazing Harry for your age. Wandless, nonverbal magic, even if it is summoning small fires or balls of light. The Imperius Curse, however, is completely different. It is Dark Magic, yes, but one of the Darkest. It gives the controller complete control over the victim. That is what the Curse means. Imperio… To Rule. You rule over your victim and they are forced to follow whatever you tell them. No sense of self, no will, just your voice and commands.”

Harry stared at Voldemort in awe. “I can make them do whatever I want,” he said. “Like make Dudley give himself and his friends wedgies! Or have Uncle Vernon starve while I eat a full dinner!”

Voldemort stared at Harry for a moment before chuckling, “Yes, exactly. But you will have to wait years before you are able to do the spell. I will teach it to you, naturally, but not until you are at least fourteen.”

“But that’s so far away!” Harry whined. He huffed, “But fine. I’ll wait.”

“Good boy, my little snake,” Voldemort praised. Harry smiled at the praise and looked back at the sunset, his mind working at how he can keep a secret from his savior.

 _“Imperio.”_ Harry’s voice sounded harsh. He was in his cupboard, laying on his bed as he stared at a spider on the wall. For the last ten minutes, he tried to control the spider. _Dance around,_ he thought. _“Imperio!”_

The spider did not move. Harry scowled. “Stupid spider! Come on! _Imperio!”_ Again the spider did not move. It just stayed in its web, waiting for prey. Harry sat up and glared at the spider. “You will do as I say!” he said, pointing his finger once more hand he felt his magic swell inside him. “DANCE! _IMPERIO!”_ Magic swelled around him and he felt a connection to the spider. However, instead of dancing, the spider caught on fire, falling from its web and it burned to death on Harry’s pillow. “Stupid spider, AHHH!” Harry growled out, smacking the fire away and off of his pillow. He glared at where the spider was then at his finger. “Stupid magic! Do what I say!”

He went to bed angry and tried again the next day. It was hard to find bugs in winter. Harry had to look in every corner of the Dursleys' home and school. When he did, he tried the Imperius Curse, hissing and glaring at the bugs as he commanded them to dance. But no matter what he did, the bugs did not do as he commands. The spiders did not dance. The ants did not jump. The cockroaches in the school basement did not spin around. He tried it even on a small puppy he found one day, but still, the dog only barked at him instead of spinning around and jumping on its hind legs. Weeks went by with no improvement to the spell. Harry was starting to get tired, feeling frustrated at both himself and the magic. “What is the point of being a wizard if I can’t do one stupid spell!?” he screamed in the basement. He waved his hand and small orbs of light and fire shot out, dancing around him as he moved his hands. “I can do this! I can make light and fire but making a stupid bug do a somersault? Damn Impossible!” The fire and orbs of light intensified before bursting.

Harry huffed, tired and he growled out. He raised his hands and stared at them for a moment before smacking his cheeks. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he said, smacking himself with each word.

He huffed and glared at the wall. He gave the empty wall a final sneer and left the basement. He sat down at his desk, feeling angry at himself and his magic when Susan Ugliano gave Harry an ugly smile. “Hey stupid face, I heard you were in the basement again yesterday. What? Figured you’re stupid enough so you might as well become a school janitor?”

“Leave me alone Susan,” Harry muttered angrily.

“Or what? You’re going to make me disappear?” Susan laughed. _No, I want you to hurt,_ Harry thought grimly. He glared at her as she laughed louder, and the teacher yelled at them to pay attention. Susan turned to listen to the teacher, but Harry just stared at her, muttering under his breath as he thought _Punch yourself in the face. Pull your hair out. “Imperio. Imperio. Imperio. Imperio.”_

His magic refused to cooperate. Susan did not move. She didn’t listen. She just stared at the teacher, obnoxiously chewing on her gum. Harry’s brows furrowed. _Come on! Punch yourself! “Imperio! Imperio! Imperio!”_ he snarled under his breath. His magic refused to move. Harry started to feel lightheaded. He snarled at Susan, angry at everything not working around him. “Stupid,” he muttered, not knowing if he was muttering about himself or Susan.

When he was home with his chores done, Harry was still angry about his failure. He needed the spell to work. He needed to prove to Voldemort that he was powerful! That he could do it! The Dark Lord was teaching him other things, yes, however this Unforgivable Curse, this one single spell was the bane of Harry’s existence. He needed to get it right.

With this in mind, he found himself in his cupboard again, practicing on insects. They continued to not do as he asked, his magic swelled but never did as he needed. With each failed attempt, Harry found his voice getting unconsciously louder. _“Imperio! Imperio! Imperio! DARN IT IMPERIO! JUMP OFF YOUR WEB!”_

“BOY! WILL YOU STOP WITH THAT RACKET!” The door of the cupboard was ripped open, revealing the angry purple face of Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped, and in his fear and surprise, he set the bugs on fire. Uncle Vernon saw that and gasped before his anger took over. “What did you do, you freak?” he demanded. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him out, throwing the boy into the living room.

“Vernon! What is going on?” Aunt Petunia asked, gasping from the kitchen.

“This freak set the spiders on fire!” Uncle Vernon said, “He’s just like his parents!” Aunt Petunia frowned at that and turned away as Uncle Vernon raised his fist. “Think you’ll be a freak in my house, eh boy? I’ll teach you better.”

The first blow knocked Harry’s head. He felt numbed as the world spun, and the second blow to his stomach didn’t hurt as much. His nerves fired up again and pain spread across his body just in time for the next series of Uncle Vernon’s punches. The large muggle roared, sounding like an angry, murderous walrus as he punched Harry. “Stop! Stop!” Harry tried to command. He tried to move his fingers; a flicker of fire sparked but it went away with another punch.

“DON’T YOU DARE USE YOUR FREAKISH THINGS ON ME BOY!” Uncle Vernon roared. “You broke my Smelting Stick, so now you have to deal with the belt!” He fumbled with his pants, unbuckling his pants and pulling the buckle out. He bent the belt, holding both ends, and whipped it against Harry. The young boy screamed.

He cried for Voldemort. He felt helpless once more. Powerless. _No, I’m not powerless! I told myself I’m not!_ Harry screamed out and threw out his hand, _Punch yourself “IMPERIO!”_ Uncle Vernon stopped, his hand vibrating as it raised slowly. Harry could feel his energy drain, his magic sapping out as he focused on the man in front of him. _Do it!_ Uncle Vernon punched himself.

But he only did it once. He blinked, clarity coming to his eyes before being replaced by anger. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME BOY? I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS! WE NEVER SHOULD HAVE TAKEN YOU IN!” He raised his foot, as though he was going to slam it into Harry’s face. The boy couldn’t move away, his vision darkened before becoming completely unconscious.

Uncle Vernon’s foot began to slam down only for a cold voice to stop him. _“Imperio!”_ Uncle Vernon’s body froze. His eyes moved wildly as every muscle in his body refused to move, a dark voice whispering in his mind. _Stay still and do not speak._

A boy looking around ten or eleven stepped into view. He had dark hair and eyes and pale skin wearing outdated clothes. The boy bent down in front of Harry and sighed as he brushed Harry’s hair out of his face, “You foolish boy. I told you to wait for me to teach you this spell.” He gave a soft smile, “You are too much like Adrian, he was my little snake too. But now that you’ve given the opportunity, we might as well take advantage of it.” The boy stood up and turned to Uncle Vernon.

“I have wanted to punish you and your family for so long after I’ve seen the way you treat my apprentice,” he snarled, his voice turning cold. “You regret taking him in, but now you will regret crossing Lord Voldemort.” He raised his hand and focused on the muggle in front of him. Muggle minds were too easy to alter, to break, that even without his wand or far from his full power, Lord Voldemort had no problem altering the muggle’s mind to his satisfaction.

He took away the man’s anger. The man’s memories and past. He left no emotion but fear, and a need to serve his superiors. Voldemort left enough intelligence for the man to do his job, as well as act normally without suspicion. But everything else, everything that pertained to Harry, to magic, and actually living, Voldemort did away with.

What was left was a shell called Vernon Dursley. A shell that would live as normal, but he will live in fear over Harry and Lord Voldemort, fear of their wrath, and fear of their punishment. The man was living, but just barely, with no ability to scream or yell or call out for help.

Lord Voldemort left the man standing exactly where he was and went to the kitchen to do the same to the horse-woman, and once more to the boy cowering in his room. The Muggle family under his control, Voldemort decided that it was finally time for some renovations. First, he had Vernon carry Harry upstairs into the room that used to belong to Dudley. The fat boy had his personal stuff thrown out, and he was moved to the second smaller bedroom. Petunia was forced to cook a feast for Harry as both Dudley and Vernon were in the living room, punching each other for Voldemort’s amusement.

A couple of hours later, Voldemort heard a noise upstairs and smiled when he saw Harry walking down the stairs skittishly. “Lord?” he whispered.

“My little snake! Come down, please,” Voldemort said, smiling. “Welcome my boy, to the rest of our lives. The muggles will no longer bother us. We will practice openly, whenever we please, and they will never harm you again. Come, I have a feast to celebrate.” He moved to the bottom of the stairs and held out his hand. Harry moved down and took it. The two moved to the kitchen where a fat chicken was waiting for them with mashed potatoes, stuffing, and carrots and broccoli. Aunt Petunia silently moved out of the kitchen and Voldemort served Harry, filling his plate up before getting a plate himself. “I have enough energy to spend the night with you Harry,” Voldemort smiled. Harry returned the smile and began to ate.

It was the best meal of his young life.

Harry gotten used to his new life surprisingly easily. He no longer slept under the cupboard but in a real bedroom. He had books! Toys! And he no longer had to do chores! Instead, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley did everything, Dudley doing most of the chores. Whenever Harry wasn’t around, they acted like a normal family. They watched the television, but at a volume that did not bother Harry or Voldemort, they went to work and school and acted as though Harry did not exist. However, the changes that happen whenever Harry or Voldemort was around made the boy’s life easier. For one, Harry ate properly now. Full plates of food just for him and him alone. Once he had his fill, Harry left without cleaning up and the Dursleys walked in to eat their food. Sometimes the food was so good that Harry wanted more of it later, so he told Aunt Petunia to put it all away. On those nights, the Dursleys only had a piece of buttered bread and water for dinner, just as Harry was forced whenever he was punished in the past, or they starved. It all depended on Harry’s feelings that day.

Days turned quickly into weeks then months, until before Harry knew it, he was ten years old! He was still short for his age, but he no longer looked malnourished, instead, he had a huge smile on his face and a full head of raven-black hair that refused to bow down to any comb or products. He wore clothes that fit him properly, and whenever he was in 4 Privet Drive, he would dance in his room to music with balls of light and fire dancing with him. It was currently the beginning of the summer, and school has just ended, and Harry was walking outside in the town’s shopping center.

He didn’t know what he wanted, perhaps some new shoes or maybe a shirt with a snake on it, or maybe something green. Uncle Vernon just had a bonus, and Harry wanted to spend all of it. It was a bright sunny day, and Harry’s mood followed the weather as he smiled to himself, thoughts full of clothes. The center was busy with muggles, but Harry kept to himself like he always did. The past couple of years, Harry did his best to limit his interaction with muggles as much as he could. He didn’t talk to the other kids in his school. He barely answered his teachers’ questions, and when he went out he made sure to be polite but short with his answers or requests.

Harry peeked into one store before deciding that he didn’t want to shop there when he saw something he never saw before. Two men were holding hands, staying close together as they walk. Harry saw a lot of couples do this and wondered why it was that these two men were doing this as well. Harry couldn’t help but watch. Normally when he saw couples, he did not care. It was something to ignore, something he just never thought or cared about. But these two men? Harry couldn’t pull his eyes away. He wanted to know more about them, about their relationship. What does it entail? Do they go on dates? Kiss each other? Do things that other couples do? So many questions swam through his head. His chest felt warm, and it felt right to him, normal even.

So, instead of shopping, Harry followed the couple. He kept a distance as he shadowed them, wondering how to approach them with all of these questions. The couple looked happy, really happy, even though people around them were giving them looks. Why were they looking at the two men like that? Some stared with hatred while others just looked disappointed. But the couple didn’t seem to care. They just continued to walk. There were some who were happy, but they were few and far between.

The couple stopped for a moment, pointing at different places to eat. Harry approached them, thinking this was the perfect place to ask them these questions. But a man got to them first. He was a large, burly-looking man with a long beard. “Hey! What are you poofs think you’re doing?” The man growled out.

“Sir, we’re just figuring out where to eat,” one of the couple said, “Kindly leave us alone.”

“After you kindly fuck off, you poofs,” the man slurred. He looked dangerous, and Harry moved immediately. He didn’t know why, but something inside him yelled at him to help the two out.

“Hey! Leave them alone!” He yelled. He ran in front of the couple and glared at the man. “Go away they don’t want around them, you huge bully!”

“Who the hell do you think you are, these fairies’ savior?” The man sneered. “Fuck off you brat, or are you a faggot too?” Harry did not know what he expected, however, the man backhanding him was not it. He fell to the ground, his cheek bruised. Harry stood up, his fingers starting to pulse as he felt his magic react.

“You’re going to—”

Harry was cut off as he felt hands on his shoulder. The shorter of the two men was knelt down, holding him as the other stood in front of him. “Are you okay?” he asked as the other yelled at the man, who just sneered and left. “That disgusting man, people like that just don’t know how to stay in their lane.” He shook his head and helped Harry up.

“I’m fine,” Harry said shortly.

“That was a brave thing you did for us, son, not a lot of people would do that, sadly,” the second man said. “How old are you exactly? You look like you’re eight or seven, where’re your parents?”

“I’m ten, thank you very much, and I can shop by myself,” Harry said, wincing at his sharp tone. “I mean, I just wanted to ask you guys some questions.”

The couple shared a look. The first guy smiled, “Alright, I’m sure we can answer a question or two, but we don’t really have much time.”

Harry nodded and decided to get right to the point. “Why is it when I saw you guys my chest felt weird? Like a hot weird. Also, how can two boys be dating? Is that an option?”

The couple chuckled, the taller man ruffling Harry’s hair, which caused Harry to give him a light scowl. “Well son,” he said, “Daniel and I are gay, that means that instead of holding hands and dating women, we want to date men. We’re boyfriends, and hoping, laws allowed, one day we’ll be husbands. We even got matching tuxes picked out for the day.”

“Joel!” the other person, Daniel, said, “The kid didn’t ask for our whole love story! Look hunny, Joel and I are gay like he said. We figured out that we liked boys instead of girls around your age. I’m not trying to put ideas in your head, but maybe the feeling in your chest is something telling you that, maybe you like boys too? Think about it, is there someone in your life right now, maybe a best friend or classmate, who makes you feel special?” Harry’s mind immediately went to Voldemort. He smiled and nodded.

“Uh-huh, there’s one person and he helps me a lot,” Harry said. “He always makes me feel better.”

“That’s great! Well, who knows, maybe as you grow older those feelings will change, or maybe not, either way, you’re a good kid for standing up for us, so thanks for that,” Daniel said. “But we really have to go now, it was nice meeting you, uh…”

“Harry! My name is Harry,” Harry said. The couple smiled and ruffled his hair one last time before leaving. Harry watched them leave before looking at where the other man ran off to. His happiness quickly moved aside for a rush of anger. That man was nothing but a huge bully, just like how Dudley and his friends used to act. Voldemort taught him how to take care of bullies and made sure they would never hurt anyone again. So Harry ran off in the direction the other man ran away. He felt a strange sensation inside him kind of pulling him down the street. He realized that it was his magic leading him to the man, so Harry smiled, this was going to be so easy.

He found the man a few minutes later exiting what looked like a liquor store. There was a costume shop next to it, so Harry ran inside it, figuring that he needed something to hide his face for when he dealt with the man. He found a batman mask easily that hid most of his face and used Uncle Vernon’s money to buy it. He smiled menacingly as he exited the store, putting the mask on. He found his target walking towards an alleyway holding his bags in one hand.

Harry immediately started running towards him and purposefully bumped into the man, causing his bag to fall, and what sounded like a lot of bottles smashing on the pavement. “Sorry mister,” Harry laughed as he ran into the dark alleyway.

“You little punk! I’ll teach you better than to do that,” The man growled and chased Harry. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, honestly it was too much fun. He slipped behind a dumpster and waited. The man ran past him and with a flick of his hand, the man tripped. Harry laughed again and jumped towards the man, summoning a small orb of fire into his palm. He slapped the man right where the man slapped him and pressed the fire into his skin. The man screamed as his flesh burned. Harry quickly summoned another small ball of fire into his other hand and grabbed the man’s hand, burning it as well. The flesh smelt disgusting, but Harry kept the pressure. He did not want to kill the man, but still, he found his anger pushing his hands harder. The skin blackened and would definitely scar. Satisfied with his quick job, Harry jumped off and ran away without another word.

“Lord Voldemort! Lord Voldemort! You’ll never guess what I did!” Harry said excitedly as he ran into the Dursley’s home. The muggles immediately became silent and sat on the couch, watching television like silent dolls. Harry ignored them and waited; he knew his mentor would come.

Indeed, a moment later, a snake appeared on the kitchen table, watching Harry. _“And what is it that caused you to act so excitable?”_ Lord Voldemort asked.

 _“I burned a mean muggle and left him to scar! His face and hand,”_ Harry said proudly. He took off his mask and held it over the sink, burning it with an easy flick. _“He was bullying a muggle couple made of two men, did you know they could do that? It’s called being gay.”_

 _“Yes Harry, I know. I told you a tiny bit about my last relationship with a boy named Adrian, my innocent snake,”_ Voldemort answered, looking a little saddened.

Harry nodded and looked at Voldemort for a while. _“Did you love him?”_ he asked.

 _“Yes Harry, I did,”_ Voldemort answered. _“Adrian was my everything. My world is dimmer without him.”_

Harry moved to the table to sit in front of Voldemort. They never really talked about Adrian. It was something that Harry wanted to know but was too afraid to ask. But now he had an opening, and he wanted to know everything about the man who saved his life, even if it brings up bad memories. _“How did he… what happened to him?”_ Harry asked.

 _“He died,”_ Voldemort answered, he had a pained expression. _“We were seventeen. Please don’t ask how, Harry. I don’t want to relieve that moment now. I will tell you, if you truly want to know, but not now. Even now, it is painful.”_

_“You cared about him.”_

_“Immensely.”_

_“Did you, did you want to marry him?”_ Harry asked. _“The gay couple I met talked about wanting to get married. Did you… did you want Adrian to be your husband?”_

 _“I—we had hope that there would be time for such things,”_ Voldemort answered. _“But yes, in a just world I would have married him.”_

Harry’s heart ached. He did not know why, but the thought of Voldemort marrying someone made his cheeks flare like whenever he saw a kid with something he wanted. Was this jealousy? Why was he feeling this? Harry cared for Voldemort, yeah, but does that mean… would he say yes? Harry just had to know. _“Voldemort, I want, if you are okay with it… I know I’m not Adrian and I’m very, very young but… I want you to be husbands with me.”_

Voldemort laughed. He slithered towards Harry and pressed his head towards Harry’s forehead. Then the snake in front of him started to shift as Harry felt his mentor borrowing his magic. In front of him, sitting on the table, sat a confident-looking twelve-year-old boy whose eyes looked too old for his body. “You are truly something Harry Potter,” Voldemort said. “To think that my apprentice would care so much for his master.”

“Voldemort—”

“Tom,” Voldemort said. “If you’re serious about this Harry, then I’ll give you permission to call me by my name. Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“Tom,” Harry said, sounding the word out. “Tom I’m serious! I want to be your husband.”

Voldemort laughed again and he pressed his hand to Harry’s cheek. “Ask me again in a few years, if your feelings do not change,” he said. “I might… consider your proposal. Now come, we have a lesson, and afterward, I have good news to share.”

“News? What news?” Harry asked, his cheeks blushing as he smiled. He didn’t say no!

Voldemort smiled and continued to stroke Harry’s cheek. “News on how your master can fully regain his power, and more importantly his body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Harry Potter gets a letter! And meets a BOY!


	6. The Wizarding World

Chapter 6

The Wizarding World

“For the past month, I’ve been visiting another,” Voldemort began. He and Harry decided to move outside to sit under the early summer sun for this. Harry liked sitting outside next to his mentor. It made him feel safe. “This person is like us in that he is curious about the Dark Arts, and thirst for power. However, he is weak, horribly weak, and thus easily manipulable.”

“Who is he?” Harry asked curiously.

“His name is Quirinus Quirrell. He does not know that I have been following him, as he is in search of power, recognition, and myself,” Voldemort chuckled.

“He’s looking for you?” Harry asked. He looked around his backyard frantically, as though some stranger named Quirrell would jump out at any moment. “Where is he?”

“On his way to Albania,” Voldemort chuckled. “Where whispers say that I am in hiding.”

“Wait, what?”

Voldemort chuckled at Harry’s confusion and petted his hair. “Whenever I was not with you, as a wraith and storing my energy, there were times when I drifted away, to make sure that watchful eyes would stay away from you, little snake. He and the world who believes that I am not dead are under the delusion that I am in Albania, weak and dying, instead of here, strong and teaching you. The man is key to my rebirth. Though you will also play a huge role during it, Harry, the man will allow me several attempts at what we need.”

“What do we need? And why?” Harry asked.

“I’m glad you asked, Harry,” Voldemort said. He pulled Harry a little closer and continued to pet Harry’s hair. _So much like Adrian’s,_ the Dark Lord mused. “He is a professor at Hogwarts, you see. He teaches a ridiculous subject called Muggle Studies as if we need to learn more about these horrible creatures,” Voldemort sneered. “He has taken this school year off as a ‘sabbatical’ in which he was searching for me. I will make it like a chance encounter and offer him a deal: He will gain power and all he had to do is give me the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously. Voldemort gave him a sharp look and Harry quiet instantly with a short “meep.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone, Harry, is a magical stone that, for our purposes, will help create a potion called the Elixir of Life. That Elixir will give me a new body, and I shall be reborn,” Voldemort explained. Harry nodded and Voldemort smiled, satisfied, and continued. “The stone is currently in Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank. It will be amusingly easy to take control over the man and have him steal the stone from there. However, if that did not work, then there will be a second chance. As I shadowed Quirrell, I’ve learned that the stone is to be moved on your birthday actually, to Hogwarts. So, if the theft in Gringotts is a failure, we shall work together to steal the stone from wherever it is hidden.”

Harry nodded and smiled, “So either way I’ll get to see you at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, you will,” Voldemort nodded. “However Harry, there’s something I need to warn you. Firstly, when you see me at Hogwarts, my form will be different, I fear. I will not appear to you as a child nor as a snake. I will have to merge with Quirrell, as horrible as that sounds, in order for me to survive long enough without siphoning your magic. I might even look hideous,” Voldemort shuddered at the thought, “however it is still me, Harry, no matter what.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, smiling, “I won’t care how you look because I know it’s temporary… right?”

“It is indeed,” Voldemort nodded. “Secondly, never call me by my name in Hogwarts. Not in front of Quirrell, or anyone. We do not want to reveal too early that you are my little snake. If the topic of me comes up, in whatever fashion, always call me by ‘the Dark Lord’ understand? There will be those who use other names, however, you must always use ‘the Dark Lord’ when talking to others about me. We will speak again, I will never leave you fully alone, but we must be careful when we converse. Speaking of, I am sorry, but I must leave you, Harry, for some time. I have to go to Albania and be ‘found’ by Quirrell.”

“You’re leaving!?” Harry asked, clearly afraid about this. Voldemort chuckled and nodded softly.

“Yes, like I said, this must happen so I can have my body back, but do not worry, for like I said, I will never fully leave you,” Voldemort stood up and held a hand out for Harry. Harry took it, and Voldemort pulled him up and held his face gently in two hands. “So, while your master is away, I want you to behave, understand? Keep practicing your magic, keep a low profile, and when you get your Hogwarts letter, go buy your supplies immediately so you can start learning from the books. I’ve written instructions for you on how to get to Diagon Alley, where you can purchase everything you need. It’s on your bed, understand? Keep it safe.”

“Okay,” Harry promised.

“Good,” Voldemort said. He then did something that surprised Harry and made his cheeks turn red. Lord Voldemort leaned forward and kissed Harry’s scar. There was a spark that flew through Harry’s body and he smiled as he felt a little better. “I’ve finally figured out what it is that I feel whenever we share your magic, my little snake,” Voldemort chuckled. “I’ll tell you when next we meet.”

“Fine,” Harry said, pouting. “But you better!”

“I will,” Voldemort chuckled. “Now, I will see you at Hogwarts, my little Slytherin.” Voldemort started to disappear in front of Harry, his body turning hazy and transparent before being blown away like a cloud of dust in the breeze. Harry watched before he couldn’t see Voldemort anymore and sighed sadly. He missed him already. But, his mentor left him tasks to do, and he will make sure to do them. Besides, Harry thought as he pressed his hand on his scar, smiling softly, the kiss felt nice. So hopefully he’ll get another one when it’s all done.

A lone owl found its way to the muggle village of Surrey, dropping its letter in the mail slot of 4 Privet Drive only three days before Harry’s birthday. Dudley silently collected all of the letters and handed them all to Harry before moving back to the living room to sit down in his seat. Harry hummed as he ate his breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and flipped through the letters absentmindedly. They were never addressed to him, and he felt like a grown-up doing it, so he always looked through them before letting Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon deal with it. That day, however, there was a letter addressed to Harry.

_Harry Potter_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Harry grinned and ripped the letter open, reading it excitedly. Just as Voldemort has told him, it was his Hogwarts acceptance letter, as well as a list of school supplies including robes, textbooks, potion ingredients, and an option to bring a pet (a cat, owl, or toad). Harry wondered what kind of pet he would like. If allowed, he would have loved to have a snake, but maybe an owl would be good to have too! Especially if the owl can send letters between him and Tom, and whatever friends he’ll make at Hogwarts.

His smile growing, Harry quickly scarfed down the rest of his pancakes and went to his room to get dressed. He wanted to make Voldemort proud in his looks, so Harry took the longest time he ever took to pick out his outfit for the day. It was a little chilly for it being summer, so Harry chose a pair of jeans with a deep green shirt and a jacket that he kept open. It was too muggleish, but it would work until Harry reached Diagon Alley. He took out Voldemort’s written instructions and, like every day leading up to this day, he read it carefully. He had to get to a pub that muggles cannot see called the Leaky Cauldron. The muggle entrance was on Charing Cross Road, and unfortunately, he could not have Uncle Vernon drive him there because the walrus had work. So, Harry asked Uncle Vernon for enough money for the bus right to and from, as well as enough for a good meal, and smiled as Uncle Vernon gave it silently. Without a goodbye, Harry left and made his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

It took Harry an hour using the Underground to get to Charing Cross Road. He mixed in easily with the crowd of muggles and looked at the shopfronts as he walked. The Leaky Cauldron was rather obvious to find. The building looked old, contrasting everything around it with faded bricks and mortar that held together and looked to be made and preserved from before the Victorian Age. There was a sign with a cauldron, from which a complicated series of symbols came out. Under which, the words “Leaky Cauldron” were spelled out clearly. Yet, the muggles just walked by, not even looking at the pub as though it was not even there. _So stupid,_ Harry thought as he walked towards the pub and entered it without a second thought.

The insides of the Leaky Cauldron were filled with witches and wizards wearing robes or strangely mismatched muggle clothing. They filled the wooden tables and stools, all talking openly and jollily. Hanging from the ceiling were old, rusted iron chandeliers holding candles, and on the walls were candle holders. Some people glanced at Harry as he looked around the pub. Voldemort’s letter described a small courtyard that served as the entrance. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw an open door that people kept entering and leaving from and figured that it led to the courtyard. He was halfway there when someone called out to him, “Oi! Kid, new Hogwarts student?”

Harry stopped and turned around to see who was yelling at him. It was the man from behind the counter, he was mostly bald and reminded Harry of a walnut. “Um, yes,” he answered. “But I know how to get into Diagon Alley, it’s through here, right?” He pointed to the door he was walking towards.

“Yeah, but where are your parents? You’re awfully young to be shopping by yourself, aren’t ya boy?” the innkeeper asked.

Harry frowned. Anger surged in him and he forced it down. “I’m more than capable of shopping by myself, thank you very much.”

“Well then,” the innkeeper said, giving Harry a dirty look. “Don’t let us stop you then.” He shook his head and muttered under his breath. Harry just shrugged and turned away. He entered the small courtyard and huffed. In front of him was a brick wall and Harry pulled out his instructions before looking at the courtyard once more. He pressed three specific bricks and gasped when the whole wall began to move!

An archway started to form, and Harry stared in awe and wonderment at everything he saw. In front of him was a cobblestone street packed with shops pressed together. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. Harry turned his head in every direction as he walked. Voldemort’s instructions told him that he would first have to go to Gringotts, which he described as a large white building, but Harry was too amazed at everything he saw to even focus on looking for the bank. There was a witch complaining about the price increase on Dragon Liver, a family leaving an ice cream shop with a dancing ice cream cone, boys around Harry’s age pressed against a window with a broomstick, one of them saying loudly, “Look! The new Nimbus Two-Thousand—it’s the fastest broom yet!” There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before nor came up in his lessons, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment.

Harry finally looked up to see a snowy white building that towered over the little shop. It must be Gringotts, Harry figured. Before he could even think of buying anything, he needed money. So, with this thought, he climbed the steps and went through the bronze doors. Inside were witches and wizards talking with strange creatures that were shorter than Harry. These creatures had wrinkled skin and long pointed ears and noses as most of them bent over ledgers that looked thicker than Harry’s torso.

He walked up to a free one and cleared his throat, “Um hello? Excuse me?” The goblin stopped and looked down at Harry. “I would like to go into my family’s vault, please? I’m Harry Potter.”

“Are you now?” the goblin said, its voice sounding like acid. It chuckled and said, “Then follow me.” It closed its ledger and hopped off its seat. Harry felt a small shiver down his spine but followed the goblin. He was Voldemort’s apprentice! He had nothing to fear. The goblin led Harry down the large entrance hall towards the back where multiple doors waited. He saw other wizards followed other goblins towards a door in the middle, but they did not go into that. Instead, the goblin led Harry to the door immediately to the right, and chuckled, “Have a seat Mr. ‘Harry Potter,’” the goblin said as they walked into an office. For some reason, Harry believed that the goblin did not believe him. The creature reached up for his forehead and moved his hair, revealing his scar. “A nice trick, but is it real? We were not expecting you until the day after your birthday, Mr. Potter. That was when Dumbledore told us you would come.”

“Dumbledore,” Harry remembered, vaguely remembering the name. He was the man who caused everything. Who fooled his Voldemort into killing his parents… who brought Harry to the Dursleys. An angry knot formed in his stomach as he growled out, “Oh really?”

“Yes, which is why we are… surprised to see you here,” The goblin said. “I do hope that you have your key, and identification.”

Harry blinked at him. He did not have either of those things, and he was sure that underwear with his name on it did not count at all (Not that Harry ever had that). “No, I don’t,” he said. “I’m sorry but why does Dumbledore have a say on my money?”

“That is what it says on the documents,” the goblin said, as though that was all that mattered. “But still… since you have no key or identification, there is still a way for you to confirm who you are.” The goblin’s eyes flickered to Harry’s scar once more. It grinned and walked behind the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and a long silver knife. “Just a small amount, a small price for a wizard.”

Harry paled at the knife. He was horrible at pain. Everything reminded him of before, years ago, when he was in so much pain that he lost control of his magic. He swallowed heavily as he stared at the knife. Then, a voice inside his head, a voice that was definitely not his own, whispered, _“Do it. I will take away any pain.”_ The voice drifted away just as quickly as it appeared, however, it comforted Harry. It made him remember what Voldemort told him at the beginning of summer. He would never be alone. Not truly. So, with this in mind, Harry nodded and held out his hand. The goblin blinked, surprised, then held the parchment under Harry’s hand and raised the long silver knife. It brought the knife down, barely poking Harry’s middle finger and pulled away. Blood beaded on Harry’s finger and, feeling like it was what he was supposed to do, Harry pressed his finger against the parchment.

The blood began to spread out immediately and Harry pulled back to watch as the blank parchment became full.

_Identification: Harry James Potter._

_Mother: Lily J. Potter_

_Father: James Potter_

_Godparents: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin_

_Inheritance: Potter Fortune and Lordship; Peverell Fortune and Lordship; Black Fortune and Lordship (pending heir’s death)_

It was all surprisingly simple to read. Harry wondered if it was specifically made that way for his age, or maybe witches and wizards liked things simple and neat. Still, however, there was something he didn’t understand. Firstly: he did not know that he had godfathers! He never heard of Sirius Black or Remus Lupin, and Voldemort definitely did not mention them. Secondly, what was a Lordship? He looked at the goblin expectantly and asked the second question.

“Nothing you need to worry about—for now, Mr. Potter,” the goblin answered, sounding much more polite. “Lordships are not available to be inherited until you are at least fifteen years old—that said, Mr. Potter, you do have immediate access to your family vault—the Potters’ that is.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry nodded. “But wait, can Dumbledore take money out of my vault?”

“Yes—and he has. The bank believed that he was taking the money out for your care,” the goblin nodded. “Why does this sound shocking?”

“Umm I never heard of this—or met the man before,” Harry said. “If it’s possible, can you please stop him from taking my money?” He cleared his throat, and sat up taller, “I mean,” he said, doing his best to sound authoritative, “Stop Dumbledore from taking my money!” he thought that Tom would be glad of that.

The goblin bowed. “Of course, it will be done.” He took the scroll and as he rolled it up, Harry was surprised to see it turn into a key! “This is your key to your vaults; however it will only work on Potter’s for now,” the goblin said. “Follow me.”

The goblin led Harry out of the office, and they went through the middle door that Harry saw other wizards go through. It led to a small platform where a minecart was waiting for them, sitting on a long track that disappeared into the darkness. The two got in and Harry barely had time to buckle and hold onto the railing when the minecart sped off like a roller coaster! The cart went down and up hills, zig-zagged around sharp corners, and spun in a way that made Harry’s head feel very dizzy. He was completely lost, not even able to pretend to follow where they were going when the cart stopped. “Here we are, Vault 687,” The goblin said in front of a large iron door. “Use the key.” It pointed to the door’s keyhole. Harry approached the door and slid the key in, turning it easily.

The door opened by itself. Inside was mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, and heaps of bronze coins as well as an old sword with a lion on its hilt and an equally large shield hanging on the wall. Harry just stared at the money trying his best to imagine how many pounds and euros can go into one of the gold coins. “Those are Galleons, Mr. Potter, sir,” the goblin said, “The gold ones, see? Next to them are Sickles, the silver, and Knuts, the bronze. One Galleon is equal to seventeen Sickles, or four-hundred and ninety-three Knuts.”

“Oh,” Harry said. _Sounds needlessly complex,_ he thought before deciding to pocket as many of the gold coins as he could. It seemed the far simplest thing to do. The goblin gave Harry a leather pouch to hold his money in, and Harry was very thankful for it. He stuffed several fistfuls of the gold galleons and left with the goblin, the door closing and locking on its own as the two sat back on the minecart.

After another nauseating cart ride, Harry was on his way outside, overly enthusiastic to spend his money! He couldn’t wait to tell Voldemort! And ask him what exactly a Lordship is.

Outside once more, Harry wondered what he should get first. He pulled out his list and hummed as he walked around. Clothes shopping sounded the most boring if Harry was honest with himself, so he figured that he should finish that first. He looked around until he saw a shop with various robes in its display window called Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions. Harry entered the shop.

It was a nice-looking shop, in Harry’s opinion, full of racks and shelves with robes and everything a wizard or witch would need. A squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve greeted him. “Hogwarts, dear?” she said when Harry started to speak. “Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a boy with creamy dark skin and a happy smile was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” the boy said, “Hogwarts too?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded.

“My mother is buying my books while her current boyfriend is out looking at pets, think he can win my heart with it,” the boy snickered. “Do you fly?”

“Uhh, no, I haven’t learned,” Harry said, remembering about one night Voldemort told him how wizards flew on brooms, and how he personally never had the knack for it.

“Pity. I fly very well, better than my friend Draco does but don’t tell him that. He’s coming to Hogwarts this year too,” the boy said. He glanced at the woman fitting his robe in a bored manner. “Guessing that means you don’t play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry said, vaguely remembering that it was a wizarding sport that Voldemort, again, did not have very much interest in. But it sounded fun when he described it.

“Well, I do, mother thinks I’ll be the greatest Chaser in Hogwarts,” the boy said a bit pridefully. He stared at Harry for a moment and frowned, “You do know what a Chaser is… right?”

“Yes, I do,” Harry said, nodding. He felt that it was a loaded question, but he didn’t feel afraid of it at all. After he heard about Quidditch, Harry spent the next week pestering the Dark Lord until the man gave him everything he knew. “They fly around with the Quaffle that they throw into the hoops to score, duh.”

“Oh, good,” the boy smiled, “No offense, but I thought you were one of those, you know,” he looked around carefully and leaned forward to whisper into Harry’s ear, “a muggleborn.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said. He remembered Voldemort’s lesson on blood purity and said, “I’m Half-blood if it matters. My father was a pureblood but my mother was a muggleborn.”

“Oh, I see,” the boy said. “Well, that’s better than being muggleborn, eh? Do you know what house you’ll be in? My family has always been in Slytherin, well my family from my mother’s side, but she has good sense, so I’ll definitely be in Slytherin.”

“I’m going to be in Slytherin too,” Harry said, smiling. “Better than Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff.” _And I made a promise to Voldemort that I would be in it,_ he added mentally.

“Good! Then why is it that I have not met you yet? What is your name anyway? I’m Blaise, Blaise Zabini.” The boy introduced himself.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said. The three around them gave a gasp. Blaise stared, “Woah! Are you really? Do you have the, you know…” he trailed off.

“You mean my scar?” Harry asked, “Yeah,” he nodded and lifted his hair so that Blaise could see the scar.

“That is where?”

Harry nodded, he remembered what Voldemort told him and said, “Yeah, that’s where the Dark Lord tried to kill me.” Blaise blinked, surprised, but a grin replaced it almost immediately.

“Cool,” he said. “Did you come here alone?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Where were you? Did you even know? The whole wizarding world was looking for you!” Blaise said. Harry frowned, he didn’t know how much he should tell Blaise Zabini, even if he was allowed to tell. He glanced at the two witches hemming their robes, who were failing quite miserably at looking as though they were not listening in, and shook his head, “I’m a bit thirsty so maybe we can talk about it over ice cream or something? I saw an ice cream shop when I went to Gringotts,” Harry offered.

“Brilliant!” Blaise grinned. They both finished soon and after paying for everything, Harry hooked his arm around Blaise’s and led the taller boy to the ice cream parlor. They sat down and ordered chocolate ice cream. “So where were you, Harry?” Blaise asked.

Harry thought for a moment, “Where do people think I was?” he asked.

“Living the lap of luxury! At least that’s what Draco keeps saying,” Blaise shrugged. “That or like in some secret training place learning magic.”

“Oh,” Harry said softly. He shook his head and said, “Well, it’s not either of those things.” He sighed and leaned on his elbows, resting his head on one hand as he twirled his other one, summoning a ball of light that he played with idly. “I grew up with muggles, actually. It was horrible, they’re mean, disgusting, smelly—they made me do all of the chores! They had me cook when I was like five! And though I actually kind of like cooking, it was still too much, you know?” He glanced at Blaise. However, the boy was staring at him, or rather he was staring at the ball of light that Harry was playing with.

“How—Harry!”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, his cheeks blushing.

“You’re doing magic! Without a wand and you didn’t even say a spell,” Blaise gasped. “How?”

“Oh, uhh it’s just something I can do,” Harry shrugged. He looked around and bit his lower lip. “Is it something that can’t normally happen?”

Blaise blinked and nodded slowly. “Harry… you need a wand to do magic,” he said.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He stared at his orb of light and blushed. It flickered and faded out of existence. “Oh,” was all he said before looking down at his ice cream. He felt embarrassed. Was he showing off? He didn’t mean to! He didn’t want to appear as a show-off or cocky at all! Those words only brought to mind Dudley and Piers… and he would never be like them. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I won’t—”

“No, no, it’s cool that you can do that!” Blaise said quickly. Harry looked up, shocked. Huh? Blaise closed the distance and smirked at him, “In fact, I can do something that others can’t.” Blaise smirked and winked at Harry. He held his hand up and bent his thumb back, far more than it should be. “See?”

“Woah!” Harry said, looking utterly amazed. “That’s so cool!”

“Nah, you being able to use magic like that is cool!” Blaise said, “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh! Well—” Harry stopped himself. The thought of the Dark Lord rose again and he shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, exactly, but uh I can explain it like this, I think. I live with muggles, horrible muggles, but uh when I was seven, I met someone—a wizard, and he kind of took care of me since then. He taught me all I know. He knows a lot about uhh magic and pureblood stuff if that makes sense.”

“Ah, okay,” Blaise said. His smile returned and he stood up, stretching. “I think I see my mother! Let’s go say hi to her and see if you can shop with us!” He offered Harry his hand and Harry took it, smiling back at him. For the first time, Harry felt welcomed, wanted by others who weren’t Voldemort, and he loved the feeling. As he walked with Blaise down Diagon Alley, the feeling inside Harry grew, and it took him no time to realize what the feeling was.

Harry Potter has finally come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist but keep working on this! I have two other stories but uh I just had to lol. How will shopping with Blaise end? Will they be friends forever? Will Voldemort get jealous later on? Will things change? But more importantly: WHAT PET WILL HARRY HAVE? And in writing wise, I have year 1 planned out and the summer after: Would you likes like to see all of the years and how it changes? That would mean that some chapters would take long as I plan stuff out, or just jump ahead to the romance in the fifth year?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and don't forget to leave a review because they are very motivating.


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